


One More Step...

by Tom_Tomorrow



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Angst, F/F, Hurt Kara, Hurt Maggie, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Protective Alex Danvers, Protective Maggie Sawyer, Whump, implied mental health issues
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-12
Updated: 2017-08-21
Packaged: 2018-09-17 01:27:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 21,826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9298085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tom_Tomorrow/pseuds/Tom_Tomorrow
Summary: "Mhm..." the other one murmurs. "Don't worry about it, she's just drunk."She'd seen Kara Danvers drunk before.Several times.This isn't what it looks like.Someone spikes Kara's drink.





	1. Chapter 1

One more…

The striped fourteen lies tauntingly in the sea of green.

The lone contester amongst a crowd of other numbers that had already met their end.

The brunette leans over the pool table, lines up the cue for a smooth shot.

Relishing the dull clunk as the balls connect, watching with satisfaction as the final striped sphere rolls toward the desired destination.

Maggie sighs as she steps out from under the fluorescent lighting and back into the muted, pulsing colors of the alien pub.

Humming to herself as she took another congratulatory sip of Jack Daniels.

Another game in the hole.

Three for three.

It would be a lot more fun if Alex were here with her.

Alex with her silky brown hair and sparkling caramel eyes and ridiculously dry sense of humor.

But she was away on official DEO business, the specifics of which were very unclear.

Because if there was one thing she could take away from their nights together was that Alex took her job very seriously.

Which meant though she incessantly complained about her job, details were always far and few between.

It didn’t bother Maggie much. She, being from an intelligence field herself, knew how it was with confidentiality.

It was a testament of faith that Alex even trusted her with Supergirl’s identity.

So it was settled, Maggie was riding solo tonight.

 The detective makes her way back to the bar stools, searching for another refill.

The maneuvering around aliens of all kind and creed, almost makes the effort not worth it.

She should be on the down low anyways.

A flash of blonde catches her eye, but she continues forward.

Makes small talk with the bartender as he prepares her a drink.

On the way back another stab of familiarity makes itself known.

The detective scans the bar.

Aliens laughing.

Drinking.

Playing pool.

But something’s off.

Then she sees it.

A flash of blonde underneath a mass of two burly, heavily tattooed men.

Something bothers her about that.

Too much.

Maggie narrows her eyes as she puts her drink down.

Kara?

Shouldn’t she have been doosing it up with her _friend_.

What’s his name.

Mon-el?

“Kara!”  

She gets no reply from her friend.

And when Maggie approaches the table she clearly sees why.

The taller blonde looks completely out of it.

Swaying in her seat as the two men hold her up.

Maggie’s gut twists with disgust and fury when she realizes what’s going on.  

“Hey! What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

Though she and Kara hadn’t started off on the right foot, she and the blonde had grown closer over the months her and Alex had dated.

It was impossible not to get along with her easygoing demeanor and affable attitude.

The giddy alien often reminded Maggie of the little sister she never had.

Guessed the protective instinct came with it.

“Move along lady. She wants this.”

The burly man on the left grumbles.

“Mhm…” The other one murmurs. “Don’t worry about it, she’s just a bit drunk.”

She’d seen Kara Danvers drunk before.

Several times.

At the bar.

At Danver’s house.

At the goddamn Christmas party.

The exuberant blonde was, by no surprise, a happy drunk.

Dissolving into laughter at even the most mundane things.

Giggling at the lights and the broken glass and at Alex who’d only roll her eyes affectionately and take her drink away.

So she knows this isn’t Kara drunk.

Knows that these two men are lying through their teeth.

Maggie glances at the table.

Three tall mugs.

Almost all of them empty.

Except the one in the center.

Kara’s.

“What did you assholes give her?”

Her question goes unanswered.

The burly man smirks.

The other one leans in for another kiss.

“What the fuck is your problem bitch?”

Bitch.

Maggie grabs the scruff of his collar and slams him headfirst into the table.

Crimson sprays immediately, a broken nose probably, but it’s nothing compared to what Alex would have done.

Alex would have shot him.

Without hesitation.

The other one releases his hold on Kara’s shirt.

And the alien with no support, slumps limply to the side.

Maggie reaches for her badge and flashes it, when the few remaining patrons in the bar perk at the altercation.

Most of them back away as soon as they see it. A good majority scatter towards the exits.

Because this bar, isn’t like the other one, it’s supposed to be a police free, human free zone and all that.

And they’d always had with clear reason for distrust.

The two men scramble when they see it.

The larger one shoves the table towards her.

Sending the contents and the table flying to the ground.

Shattering the glass and spraying the liquid everywhere.

The bloodied one weasels himself around her in the momentary disarray.

God given defiance in his eyes.

Within moments they’re both running for the doors.

 For a moment, she considers chasing down the bastards.

But there are more pressing matters.

Kara.

The blonde is a ghastly shade of greyish red.

Like she’s blushing and paling at the same time

“Hey Kara… Are you with me?”

The detective uses her momentum to shift the younger woman back into an upwards sitting position.

Cups her chin and tries to gently coax the blonde into meeting her eyes.

What she sees isn’t good.

Her pupils are wide, rolling aimlessly amongst the bloodshot streaked seas of white.

Glassy and unseeing.

And the younger Danvers is cold. So cold.

How can someone be so cold in this makeshift excuse for an oven?

Maggie finds herself looking at the glass again.

Now shattered in pieces. Broken shards soaking in its previously held liquid remnants.

And wished so desperately she’d brushed up on at least a little Kryptonion pharmacology.

She reaches for her phone. Hastily dialing in the numbers.

If Kara were normal, a hospital would have been the top priority.

But Kara isn’t normal.

And hospitals aren’t made for alien physiology.

“ _You’ve reached Alex Danvers. If I haven’t answered I’m either busy or don’t want to talk to you. Leave a message after the beep.”_

Voicemail.

She tries J’onn.

Voicemail.

Winn.

Straight to dial tone.

Alex again.

Nothing.

Goddamn it.

Goddamn it!

She doesn’t have anyone else from the DEO on speed dial. 

Her focus turns back to Kara.

Who is looking at everything and nothing at the same time.

Who is speaking wordlessly, incomprehensibly with absolutely no sound.

Whose form has started to tremble, Maggie can feel the small shivers underneath her hand.

She presses two fingers against the girl’s neck.

Her pulse is thready. Weak.

But the detective isn’t exactly sure what her normal pulse is supposed to be.

Because Supergirl was supposed to be indestructible.  

And until now she’d never seen her as anything other than exactly that.

Things like heartrate had never seemed that important until now.

“Kara.  I need you to look at me. Danvers! At me! I need you to focus.”

Maggie reiterates the command when the girl’s eyes begin to drift away again.

“Do you know what they gave you?”

But the younger sister of her girlfriend only gives her a dopey, empty glance.

No spark of recognition or attentiveness even register in her eyes.

Not even a semblance of concentration.

Cold runs through her veins.

It’s bad.

She needs to get Kara to the DEO. Now.

Only they were equipped to deal with this type of situation.

The detective shifts herself under the taller woman’s arm. Prepares to lift her up.

Prepares to drag her to the car if she has too.

The remaining patrons that haven’t scattered, gaze warily from their barstools.

Byproducts of a world where it was much easier to stand idly by instead of get directly involved.

Assholes.

The blonde is a mess of uncooperative heavy limbs.

And her height certainly isn’t helping.

The younger woman is shaking now.

The former shivers transforming into sporadic spasms as Maggie struggled to get her to stand on her own two feet.

“Kara. Come on, we’re going to get some help.”

And there’s nothing but a distressed groan in response.

But she supposes saying something is better than saying nothing at all.

In agonizing minutes, rather than seconds the detective manages to get the blonde to the exit.

Forced to plow straight through the floor of broken glass.

Because any longer route risked more pain than necessary.

And she’s already coaching the blonde the entire way as it is.

Maggie wants to feel relieved when they finally reach the door, but she knows that it is only a small, if not temporary victory and Kara is nowhere near off the hook.

“Come on, Little Danvers. One more step. One more…”

The cold air stings her skin.

The back entrance of the bar slams shut behind them.

 And when she looks up at taller woman, Maggie notices the grey tint rapidly overtaking her features.

One more step…

But the blonde doesn’t have one more step left in her.

A guttural groan escapes Kara’s throat as her eyes roll back into her head and then she’s convulsing.

Her limbs begin to jerk sharply, a massive amplification of the mere trembling that dominated her beforehand.

Kara’s hands clench and her ankles spasms inwardly as her legs try to pull in different directions.

And suddenly Maggie finds herself supporting the entirety of the younger woman as gravity tries to pull them both down.

She is so focused on helping, that she doesn’t take into consideration just how strong her friend is.

Not until an arm is flying in her direction.

The force of the blow sends a spike of white-hot pain across her chest, pitching her backwards, sending her crashing across the backstreet alley they’d exited into.

The fragile wood splinters under her weight and the loose debris scrapes gashes into her skin as the momentum sends her ten, twenty, thirty feet away.

Air rushes from her lungs as her back finally collides with a brick wall.

The crack of her ribs is more than audible.

And so is the ringing in her ears.

For a moment everything grows fuzzy.

There are stars…

And colors…

But she could still hear Kara.

Could hear every sharp movement of her arms colliding with the cement and each watery… or bloody exhale as she struggles to breathe through the contractions.

And something else.

Something else…

Something…

Her concentration falters.

Something wet slides down her neck.

Wet and warm.

She raises a hand to it.

Comes back with crimson.

Shit.

The fuzziness threatens to overtake her vision.

The detective struggles to shake it away.

Struggles to get up.

Too no avail.

The darkness wins that battle.


	2. Chapter 2

Unconsciousness is a weird concept.

There is no dreaming in that kind of state. No imaginary figures. No vague memory sequences.

Just a wide expanse of empty darkness. A giant bunch of nothing.

And that nothingness fails to claim her for long.

Something…

Something’s trying to bring her back…

A brightness pokes through the dark, goading her to consciousness.

One more step…

One more…towards the light.

Every passing second gifts her with awareness.

Someone’s touching her…

Warm hands…

One on her shoulder. One grabbing her chin.

Maggie wants to move. To shake it away. To do something.

But her body won’t cooperate with her mind.

“Maggie… Mags…”

Someone’s calling her name. At least she thinks someone is.

The voice speaking above her sound warped and distorted.

Like everything is underwater and far, far away.

It’s hard to hear anything over the rushing of blood in her ears.

Even harder to focus beyond the agonizing pulses now searing their way through her skull.

“This is Agent… I need a medical evac… Have a situation with…”

Though the words are frantic and disjointed, they sound painfully familiar.

But familiar is good.

Familiar is safe.

Familiar provides the impetus for the detective to open apart her eyes.

When she does, she’s blinded with flashing colorful spots and an overwhelming, smothering wave of nausea.

She closes them just as fast, craving the darkness that blotted out the pain so sweetly before, but the hands are moving again, shaking her awake.

“No…No you have to stay awake.”

So instead, her vision fades in and out, giving the detective blurred, incoherent snippets of the events occurring around her.

It’s Alex, she realizes.

The older Danvers is still wearing her work uniform, seeming unnaturally large as she looms over her.

Eyes filled with concern, worry, the remnants of panic, and a flicker of relief.

But it’s Alex.

She tries to blink her girlfriend’s face into focus.

Tries to lean into her touch.

But she can only smother another groan as another throbbing pulse threatens to turn her vision sideways.

And when Alex hesitates, Maggie realizes she must look as bad as she feels.

The eldest Danvers glances back towards the alley entrance impatiently .

Like she’s waiting for someone.

The detective tries to lean forward, tries to see, but Alex pushes against her.

“Hey… Don’t move… Don’t move, you’re hurt Maggie.”

The detective eyes shift away from the lights just outside alley, back towards Alex.

It’s easier to look at her.

“A… Alex…”

Her girlfriend gives her a quirky relieved smile, but the worry, evident in her tone, doesn’t go away.

“I’m here… I’m here… Do you know who did this?”

Does she know who did this?

Maggie struggles to wipe the cobwebs on her mind away.

Struggles to think over her pounding head.

And then…

Kara!

The nausea pummels her with an agonizing wave of vertigo when the detective makes an effort to get up again.

Makes an effort to push herself back into the alley that Kara had thrown her out of.

“Maggie. You need to stop. Please! Stop moving!”

Alex is begging.

Forcing her down as gently as possible, but the detective’s ribs scream in agony anyway, refusing to be ignored.

“K-Ka…Kuh-Kara…”

Her name comes out garbled. Slurred. Smothering the importance of what she’s trying to convey.

You sister’s down there, she wants to say.

Your sister’s hurt, she wants to make her understand.

Why can’t she say it? It’s a simple word. Why can’t she speak…

More footsteps rapidly sound from within the alley.

Heavier than either of the Danvers’ sisters, but light enough to not be considered a real physical threat.

Her eyes trail away from Alex.

Trail to the converse shoes trotting up to them.

Trail up to a pair of khaki pants and a plaid shirt.

Winn.

He stops for a second. Stares at the both of them.

Stares at the red on Alex’s hands. At the crimson on her.

“Kara…” Maggie slurs again in a whisper, but Winn’s already talking over her to Alex.

“ETA is five minutes.”

He sounds jittery and nervous. Like he doesn’t know quite what to do himself.

And somewhere within the vestiges of her mind, she remembers he’s not a field agent.

Then why is he here?

The edges of her vision begin to blur once more.

The darkness attacking viciously as it fights its way inwards.

“Here take my gun, make sure no ones down there.”

Maggie watches in a fuzzy stupor as Alex hands him her service weapon.

Watches in a barely lucid state as Winn disappears into the dark.

A flutter of relief flitters to the surface.

It’s not even a minute later.

“Alex!”  
  
Winn’s shout echoes from further down the alley. High and shrill and filled with panic.

And without even looking, Maggie knows he found Kara.

The detective hasn’t heard anything from the blonde since she was dragged back into painful consciousness.

She doesn’t want to believe what that might mean.

Alex visibly tenses, but is still looking at the detective, leaning closer, trying to figure out what she's attempting to say.

And Maggie can only hope that Alex sees the desperation in her eyes as she wills her to follow Winn down that alley.

Wills her to follow.

To find out is she alive? Is she okay? Is she…?

“Alex! It’s Kara!”

Alex’s eyes flicker away from her own for a moment, turning briefly towards the darkness of the alley Winn’s disappeared into.

And when those caramel eyes flicker back, Maggie can see the flurry of emotion that rushes across them.  
  
A spilt second of confusion. Then worry. Fear. Anxiety. Indecisiveness.

And the detective knows she’s facing an internal dilemma.

Go towards her sister. Or stay here with her.

“Go… Go….”

The detective mutters weakly, but she can’t even hear herself.

So she knows damn well Alex can’t.

The taller brunette leans close to her, gently takes hold of one of her hand, and meets her eyes.

“I’ll be right back.” she whispers fast and low. “I’m going to check something, but Winn’s going to come and take care of you for a minute. But I’ll be back ok? I’ll be back.”

Maggie manages an imperceptible nod.

And the colors swirl as Alex disappears from her vision.

And then her girlfriend’s gone.

And so is she.  
…. …. … …

Maggie realizes two things when the forefront of consciousness is propelled forward again.

First, the migraine, though admittedly not nearly as angry as before, had taken a seemingly permanent residence in her mind.

Second, she’s on a hospital bed. And she hates hospitals.

There’s a lot of white. Too much white.

White walls. White ceilings. White sheets. White bandages.

She lifts her an arm. Examines the countless butterfly stitches.

A sharp ripple of pain crept up her injured body when she attempts to shift her position further, and the detective winces as the twinge radiates to other less sore areas.

She draws in a breath, as deep and as slow as she can without aggravating her ribs.

Then closes her eyes and tries to pinpoint what exactly hurts the most.

So far her mind is screaming everything.

“You have four broken ribs, a fractured clavicle, and a fairly nasty concussion. Not to mention all the superficial scrapes and bruises. ”

The deep, rumbling bass of a voice interrupts her from her self evaluation.

“Jesus Christ!”

She murmured hoarsely, momentarily surprised by the sudden input.

It’s J’onn.

He leans in the doorway. The ever calming, authoritative presence.

She’d forgotten he could read minds.

“Where’s…”

Maggie pinches the bridge of her nose when a residual wave of nausea sweeps over her.

“Where’s Alex? I ordered her to get some rest, but you know how she is. She should be here soon.”

His attempt at humor goes unnoticed as Maggie works to comprehend everything he’s saying.

“You told her to get some rest?” the detective echoes.

“You’ve been out for over seventy-two hours. We received your messages within the hour after getting off of a twenty-four undercover operation. I don’t think she’s gotten any real sleep in over four days. So yes, I sent her to get some rest.”

Maggie smirks tiredly.

Of course Alex would be the one to worry.

“I’m surprised you were able to get there so fast…”

“Maggie.” J’onn steps into the room. “You called Alex, Winn, and I multiple times within the span of a ten minute period and didn’t answer at all after that. My only regret is that we weren’t able to come sooner.”

For a moment there is silence.

“Is Kara…?”

J’onn pauses.

An indecipherable glint flashes in his eyes.

“She’s getting better… She was under the sun lamp for a quite a while. Whatever happened… It’s taken a toll.”

It’s taken a toll.

Maggie thinks back to the bar. To the two burly, heavily tattooed men. To the vacant look in Kara’s eyes.

_“Move along lady. She wants this.”_

It’s taken a toll.

That leaves much up to interpretation.

“Maggie!”

Alex appears from nowhere, pushing past J’onn and into the DEO medical room.

And Maggie, despite the nausea, the soreness, and the worry, smiles.

“Don’t ever do that again!”

And Alex’s hand is in hers again.

Warm and familiar.

“You haven’t been on a war rampage have you? I don’t think the DEO could survive another after the one you whipped up the last time I got shot.”

Maggie murmurs dryly.

Her sarcasm would have been more convincing if she didn’t sound so tired. So weak.

And Alex only smiles wistfully. Holding her hand tighter.

Behind her J’onn makes his exit, giving the women some much needed privacy.

“Well, when you don’t answer after blowing up my cell with all those calls. Of course I had to worry… Trust me, the DEO was fine with helping. It was Winn who tracked down your phone.”

Her girlfriend was up again, circling the bed, looking for her hospital charts.

“Oh, so you mean it was you who made Winn track down my phone? Jesus, Alex I’m surprised you didn’t send in the entire organization.”

Maggie jokes, but the raspiness of her voice makes it sound like she was speaking with gravel in her throat.

“You didn’t know what it looked like, Maggie. When Winn and I arrived, you weren’t even moving. Whatever threw you, threw you hard. And then Kara…”

Maggie swallows hard, she can clearly hear the sadness the weighs heavily in Alex’s voice.

She thinks back to Kara’s seizing, convulsing limbs.

Remembers Supergirl’s arm flying out at her.

Remembers the pain.

And then because she know’s Alex will give her a honest answer, Maggie asks again,

“How is Kara?”

The relief in Alex’s expression falters.

The light in her tired eyes dim just a bit.

“Kara’s… Kara’s processing…”

Maggie watches Alex avert her eyes to the entrance, as if the younger woman is going to appear at the door any moment.

“Processing? What’s that supposed to mean?”

Alex shakes her head. Shrugs her shoulders.

“Something… She was in the sun lamp for over a day. And usually she just jumps back, but this time…”

Alex trails off.

And Maggie sees the gears working ferociously in her mind.

“I mean physically she seems to be okay, but mentally… She’s walking around like a ghost, Maggie. And she keeps saying she’s fine, but she’s a horrible liar.”

_The taller blonde looks completely out of it._

_Swaying in her seat as the two men hold her up._

_“Don’t worry about it, she’s just a bit drunk.”_

“Maggie… Do you know what happened that night?”

Maggie looks away, salt stings the edges of her own eyes as she thinks.

She didn’t really know the entirety of events that happened that night.

Didn’t know what happened before she dragged those men off of Kara.

Didn’t know how far they’d gotten.

Didn’t really know if Kara did either or if she even fully understood.

“Alex… Maybe you should sit back down for this…”

Because if Alex hadn’t gone on a rampage before, she damn would now.

  
......

(Danvers sisters and MaggieKara moments coming up)


	3. Chapter 3

Alex looks stricken when she finishes.

Her jaw firmly shut.

Something akin to a mixture of anger, fury, and guilt light fires and radiate in waves throughout the room.

Even from this distance, Maggie sees the whites of the brunette’s knuckles as they tighten their grip on her medical charts.

The brunette’s suppressed anger is barely staying under wraps.

And Maggie sees the gears working furiously in her girlfriend’s mind.

Who did this?

Why wasn’t I there?

Who? Why? Who? 

It’s the mantra running rapidly though her head.

Even if she doesn’t say it out loud.

The lividness is electrifying.

“Alex.”

When she turns, at last to face her, there are no trace of tears. 

Not in her eyes. Not in salty marks tearing down her face. 

Alex hardly ever cried. 

She was so used to being the strong one. So much so that tears were always an afterthought.

It had to be serious for Alex to shed a tear.

And right now fury trumped anything else. 

His eyes were narrowed, rigid, cold, hard. 

And in that moment Maggie knows she was already far away.

She doesn’t even blink.  
Maggie can tell she’s already dreaming up a plan. 

A plan to track down the bastards.

A plan to torture them.

A plan that, admittedly, Maggie can’t wait to jump on board with.

As soon as the fractures in her bones fuse themselves back together.

“There were two of them?”

The steeliness in Alex’s tone could cut the atmosphere with its sharpness. 

Low and deadly and razor-edged.

Maggie nods. A silent affirmation of the story she’d just told. 

Repeating the facts not because Alex hadn’t heard her, but because Alex was still trying to believe what she’d just said. 

Her girlfriend rests her elbows on her knees. 

Her expression contorts even further. Twisting into a grimace.

And it’s obvious Maggie’s response hadn’t done anything to quell her fury.

Only added fuel to that fire.

“Damn it!”

Alex springs from her chair. Begins pacing the short span of the room.

“I swear to God if it was Cadmus!”

The brunette’s spitting fire now.

“Alex.”

Her girlfriend whirls to face her.

Still holding onto the reins of her fury

“They didn’t touch you did they?”

And Maggie can practically feel the guilt radiating off of her for missing the frenzy of what occurred in those early morning hours.

She shakes her head.

Something within her deflates.

And Alex collapses back down into her chair. 

Massages her temples with her hands.

“God. Why didn’t she say anything? Why didn’t Kara…”

The guilt catches up with the anger. 

The fury backing up minutely, as remorse slowly takes its place.

Smothering the fires the anger started. 

“She was drugged out of her mind Alex… I don’t think she even remembers.”

Maggie regrets the words as soon as she says them.

Because Alex is clearly beating herself up over this. 

And Maggie remembers she’s only seen the front half of what happened that night.

Not anything after that. 

“God. I’m supposed to protect her. If I had been there…”

Alex saw herself as Kara’s guardian. 

Protected her fiercely. 

Defended her to the end.

She would always take anything that happened to her younger sister as a hit. 

As a failure.

“Hey. None of that. It’s no one’s fault but theirs.”

Maggie wheezes softly, but firmly.

Alex deflates a little. 

Silence reigns for a moment as she thinks.

And when she looks at Maggie again the anger is muted.

“If it was.. If she was drugged…I have to go back to the bar.”

Alex pales as she says it.

She clearly doesn’t want to leave Maggie.

She clearly wants to go hunt down her sister.

But they both know the longer they wait, the less successful their chances are of them finding the bastards are. 

And if you want a job done right, you often had to do it yourself.

The brunette sighs as she runs hand through her short cropped hair. 

And her hand finds Maggie’s again. Squeezes it firmly.

“I think Agent Vasquez is going to come in soon with more pain meds. Can you please not go all lone wolf and actually take them?”

Maggie smirks tiredly.

Alex squeezes her hand tighter.

And when her grip loosens, Maggie finds herself already missing her touch.

“I’ll keep you posted.”

The determination and lividness lights itself in the forefront of Alex’s eyes.

God forbid the bastards cross her path now.

………. …… …… ……

“Hey.”

The detective looks away from Alex’s most recent text message.

Looks towards the entrance of her room.

Kara.

The gangly alien lingers outside the door, clad in ashen-gray sweatpants and an even darker charcoal shirt.

The muted colors of the clothes highlight the pale, ashen pallor of her skin.

The same dark circles that had taken residence under Alex’s eyes were just as pertinent on her sister. 

It makes her look smaller, younger than she actually is.

Makes her look strikingly vulnerable.

Processing.

So this is what Kara Danvers processing looked like. 

“Hey Danvers.”

The detective palms her cellphone, conceals it from view, as she beckons the younger woman in. 

The blonde doesn’t waver from her spot. 

“Alex… Alex said you needed some company.”

The younger Danvers’s tone is soft. Unsure. Hesitant. Fragile.

And Maggie knows Alex sent her sister here for more than one reason.

Because the detective herself had been a lone wolf for as long as she could remember.

And her girlfriend certainly knew that the brunette, no matter the circumstance, could handle herself for a few hours.

So no. This was two things.

A subtle move by Alex to make sure someone she trusted was keeping an eye on Kara.

And a reassuring guarantee that the two people she loved most, were safe. Together.

“Yeah well I have to say entertainment isn’t one of the DEO’s strong suits.”

Maggie forces her voice to remain as even and nonchalant and sarcastic as it’s ever been because Kara seems to be looking for the slightest excuse to make a hasty exit.

She considers it a success when a ghost of a smile passes across the younger women’s lips.

Though it doesn’t match the carefully placed distance in her eyes.

For another moment neither of them move. 

Then as if the ice had thawed from around her feet, Kara moves into the room.

Folds herself up into the arm chair across from Maggie’s hospital bed.

And as the younger woman settles herself, the detective notices the DEO insignia stitched into the grey in her clothes.

Alluding to the fact that either Kara had found a sudden love for the mandated government clothing or she hadn’t been home since this entire thing occurred.

Maggie was leaning toward the latter. 

“How are you feeling?”

The blonde’s line of vision doesn’t waver from the ground as she shrugs. 

Then, as if reevaluating her response, the alien shakes her head.

Looks up at her and smiles a weak, watery version of her normal grin.

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that?”

Maggie had forgotten how bad she must have looked.

The pain medication having kicked in hours ago, makes everything feel a few notches above vaguely uncomfortable.

Nowhere near as bad as before. 

“You and Alex seem to be convinced I haven’t ever broken a bone in my body. It’s a few cracked ribs. I’ll be fine.”

She sugarcoats it for her benefit.

Laughs it off as trivial, even though the discomfort in her ribs protests the triviality of it all.

Even though Kara could use her X-ray vision to prove her wrong if she really wanted too.

But even without it, Maggie can still tell the blonde doesn’t entirely believe her.

Everyone always had a tell. A nervous tic of some kind.

Winn drummed his fingers. Alex bit her lip. And Kara… Kara usually had a horrible poker face. 

Her entire expression would stitch together. Highlighting even the slightest semblance of emotion.

And her brows are furrowed now, her hands wringing together, her foot anxiously tapping against the ground.

Something else is bothering her.

Maggie shifts in the bed, ignoring the small twinge as she scrutinizes her friend closer.

She’s shaking. 

Small tremors. Not nearly as bad as they’d been that night.

But tremors nonetheless. 

“Kara… Your hands, they’re shaking…”

The younger Danvers’s focus flits back to her hands.

And Maggie watches her look at them for those few seconds with such an off-putting peculiarity.

As if she can’t quite believe that the trembling hands are in fact hers.

The obvious confusion makes the detective feel sick to her stomach.

“Kara…”

The blonde clenches her trembling hands into tightly wound fists. 

Then unclenches them. Then clenches. Unclenches.

Finally just shoves them into the pockets of her baggy sweatpants, when they don’t stop trembling. 

“Uh.… Um… I’m I-I just wanted to s-say sorry. I-I didn’t mean to.. to um- Um-“

Maggie’s already shaking her head, stifling her surprise, as Kara tries to stammer out an apology.

So she knew. 

And for a moment Maggie's angry at whoever told her.

Because Alex certainly hadn’t known when she’d come in hours earlier. 

And Kara certainly hadn't needed to know about it now.

“It wasn’t your fault, Kara.”

The younger Danvers refuses to look up or even meet her eyes.

Refuses to agree with anything Maggie just said.

“I’m sorry.”

Kara says it in a whisper.

The phrase is thick and frail and heavy with tears.

Like she’s trying not to cry.

“Kara. It was not your fault. I’m going to be fine.”

The detective interrupts firmly.

She’d never been good at comforting people. 

It had never been her strong suit.

But her gut is twisting as she watches the younger girl fray apart at the edges.

Suddenly the blonde flinches, and the detective watches Kara abruptly glance to her left. 

Maggie follows her line of vision, but sees nothing but the white walls of the DEO.

And when she turns back, Kara’s ferociously rubbing her temples, looking back at the ground. 

The younger woman offers no explanation. 

For a moment nothing can be heard except the anxious rhythm of Kara’s foot against the floor.

“Maggie… What do you do… What do you when everything hurts?”

Kara sounds like she’s about to fracture into a dozen pieces.

And how is Maggie supposed to respond to that?

Supergirl is invincible. Supposed to be. Should have been. Hadn’t been at all recently.

How do you describe pain to someone who isn’t supposed to feel it?

But Kara’s looking at her anxiously. 

The careful distance in her eyes having withered away with the deteriorating conversation.

Now her eyes are frozen over like winter, frozen with pain, with fear, with something.

Robbing them of their usual warmth.

Leaving the rest of the emotions to battle it out, and eventually helplessness wins out in the end.

“I… I don’t know w-what to… to do Maggie. I went under the Sun Lamp.. I stayed under the sun… And it’s supposed to make everything not hurt. It’s supposed to make everything not… It-It’s not supposed to h-hurt.”

The blonde’s gasping her way through her explanation, salty tears threatening to spill over. 

It’s obviously apparent that Kara’s dealing with a lot more than she portrays on the surface.

But Maggie doesn’t know how to help with that.

And the one person that does isn’t here.

“Kara! Have you told Alex about any of this?”

Maggie asks this even though she already knows the answer.

Because if Alex had known, she’d be here now instead of enacting justice on the bastards from that night.

Because Kara would always be more important her than revenge would ever be. 

She idly wonders how none of the others caught it.

Winn. J’oon. James. Fucking Mon-el.

Because according to J’onn she’s been out for seventy-two hours.

“I… I’m such a m-mess… I shouldn’t have… I’m really… R-really sorry…”

Kara’s looking to the left again. 

Scrutinizing that same wall as she tries to eject herself from the conversation without answering Maggie’s question.

“Kara. Look at me. Have you gotten any sleep since… since this began?”

“Sleep. Yeah.” the blonde murmurs unconvincingly to herself. “I just need some sleep.”

That’s not an answer.

The foot tapping ceases.

And suddenly the blonde is unfolding herself from the chair. Making her way towards the door.

“Kara…”

But the blonde isn’t listening.

Exiting quickly with her arms wrapped so tightly around herself she looks like she’s wearing a straightjacket. 

She watches Kara’s retreating form. 

And the second her friend disappears from view, Maggie reaches back for her phone.

Kara needs her sister.

Now more than ever.

…>.>.

 

(What happened with Kara isn’t an easy fix. It’s much more complicated than that… What did you think? What do you want to see?)


	4. Chapter 4

“Hey Maggie.” 

The technology specialist distractedly glances up from the maps and pictures and code that run across the massive array of screens in front of him as he greets her.

The spiky haired brunette barely looks at her for more than a moment, before he quickly turns his attention back to the business he’s obviously working hard on.

She’s about to say something else, when he abruptly spins back. Wide-eyed. Slack jawed. 

“Whoa…. No no no. Maggie, what are you doing up? Aren’t you supposed to be resting? You should really be-”

The detective stops his hasty flow of words with a raised hand.

Then leans against the desk as she tries redistribute some of the pain that’s risen to the surface with the exertion. 

She was technically supposed to be ‘resting.’ 

Bedrest. Something along those lines.

But she isn’t the one to sit around and be idle.

And the agency, for all their security expertise, had absolutely no one posted at her room.

So after a hasty, frantic phone call with Alex, she’d taken the initiative.

Swallowed another dose of what she assumed was aspirin and stumbled her way into the main area.

Concern fueling most of her movements.

And the need to keep doing something, anything, that contributed, kept her going. 

“Where’s Kara?”

Winn rolls away from his desk and spins in his chair as he scans furtively among the throngs of DEO agents milling about the base. 

Worry bubbles in his expression when he can’t immediately pick the blonde out from the crowd.

“Didn’t Alex send her- I mean- Wasn’t she with you?”

The detective shakes her head. 

“She was with me. Then… she bolted. Have you seen her at all? Recently?”

Winn only looks at her silently.

Giving her an affirmation of an answer she wasn’t looking for.

“No… I haven’t. Not since Alex left. Maggie… I really think you should get some rest.”

He’s still wide eyed.

Staring at the countless butterfly stitches.

Staring at the tightly wrapped bandages barely visible underneath her own DEO-mandated apparel. 

“No. No. I don’t need anymore rest, Winn. I just… Can you help me find Kara?”

And she knows exactly what he’s thinking

The look of dubiety and incredulousness say it all.

“Maggie. I was there! It was a mess. You were a mess! Kara was a mess! You aren’t going to help anybody if you can barely stand on your own two feet!”

And he’s right in a way.

Maggie can’t seem to focus with a decent degree of clarity on anything that is more than twenty feet away.

Breathing in shallow pants is the only way she can get any air without aggravating her ribs.

The only thing keeping her upright are her hands, which have a firm grip on the table.

And she can determine with no degree of certainty that her vision won’t swim like it did when she stepped out of bed the first time.

But still.

“Winn. Alex is on her way back, but Kara… can’t be alone right now. So please. Please.”

She can tell Winn wants to say no.

But he cares about Kara as much as she does. 

As much as they all do.

Having made his decision, the chair spins back towards the computer.

And soon the displays on the screens are security footage. Live feed.

Winn flips through them rapidly. 

Seeing more than she obviously can.

“Aha! Here. She’s in the training room.”

Maggie moves over to look at the screen.

And sure enough there she is.

Curled up in the corner of the screen.

From this angle she can only see her from above, sitting hunched in the corner, legs folded up, hands shoved underneath her arms.

At first glance it looked like she was sleeping.

But then she sees the blonde’s foot. Tapping out a monotonous rhythm. 

Because of course it would be to good to be true for her to actually be getting decent rest.

“Thanks, Winn.”

Leans away from the desk to make her way in the opposite direction.

“No!”

Winn wheels his chair directly in front her path.

“I’m coming with you. You know Alex would kill me if I let you wonder around without saying anything.”

The skinny computer tech obviously isn’t taking no for an answer, scooping up his tablet and transferring the security feed to the small device. 

Then he’s up next to her, shortening his long strides to match the detective’s admittedly slow pace.

The shifting fragments of cracked ribs was enough to slow anyone down.

At first the pair walk in silence, as much silence as the noisy DEO can afford them, while Maggie ruminates over everything.

“Winn… You said it was a mess. What exactly happened after… After everything?”

The spiky haired brunette looks like he wants to physically recoil at the question.

His left hand grip tightens on the tablet.

He drums out a pattern against his khaki pants with his right. 

And somehow manages to train his line of vision on a particularly interesting spot in the hallway ahead of them.

“Uh… Um… There was a lot of red.”

Winn says finally. 

Maggie stays silent.

Knowing it was just a waiting game when it came to the quirky IT expert.

“There was a lot of blood.” 

The brunette clarifies with a slight quiver.

“I mean between you and Kara… There was so much. And it was impossible to find out where it was all even coming from. I mean no one should have that much blood outside of them.”

He whispers the last part to himself in disbelief, as if he can’t quite grasp the concept even when he’d seen it with his own eyes. 

“At first we thought it was Cadmus. I mean, Alex, she probably told you that already. Because there aren’t a lot of people that can take Kara out like that. Not without kryptonite. But Cadmus likes to leave a mark. A signature. But there was nothing. And of course, no one in the bar would say anything.”

His frustration shines through his words.

His anger pouring through in his whisper-shouts.

Though there’s no point in whispering. 

Anyone could hear him, if they put in the effort.

Especially Supergirl, with enhanced hearing and all.

“There aren’t a lot of security cameras in the alley. There aren’t any in the bar. So I had to use the parking lot one, but you won’t believe this Maggie, that one only works on fucking twenty minute intervals, because the owner is too lazy to pay for basic CCTV. So even that took a lot of scrubbing to get even a basic image. Until today, we’ve been working with diddly squat. And the footage I managed to get is so poor… I can’t even do my job beyond two fucking grainy photographs! So yeah, this case has been a mess!”

The duo comes to a stop. 

Only a short hallway separates them from the training room Kara had presumedly holed herself up in.

Regardless, neither of them make a move to go in.

Instead, Winn runs a hand through his spiky hair. 

Oozing nervousness and desperation simultaneously. 

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry- I just- it’s so frustrating.”

His anger quickly dissipates, leaving nothing but defeat in its wake. 

And the detective moves to meet his eyes.

“You don’t need to apologize for things you have no control over.”

It is much easier to say that to someone else than it is to say it to herself.

The duo dwell on that for a moment.

And then wordlessly make the decision to move into the room.

She realizes immediately why Kara seemed so subdued into the security footage. 

Emerald green spills out from under the cracks of the doors.

Poking through like sunlight through the clouds.

Right.

It was Supergirl’s training room.

Kryptonite. 

“Danvers?”

There’s no response from the other side of the door.

Nor does she expect there to be. 

Not in the way the blonde left hours earlier. 

“Kara?”

It’s Winn asking this time.

Quieter and unsure, still trying to pull himself together.

Nothing. Not even a sound.

The computer tech hands the tablet off to Maggie as he heads toward the control panel.

Starts fiddling with the keys.

The detective takes a seat.

Takes the one closest to that kryptonite door.

“Kara, it’s Maggie and Winn. We’re here. And we’re not leaving okay?”

There’s no answer.

…. …. … … …

Winn can’t get pass the security code.

Apparently, he doesn’t have a high enough clearance level.

And the computer code behind the locks are a jumbled, incoherent mess with too many back doors and rattraps and alien jargon. 

So Winn is forced to retreat back and sit with Maggie and wait for a person with the correct clearance level to unlock the door for them.

The correct clearance level meaning, Alex or Director Henshaw.

Both of whom are out in the field.

The detective checks the time.

The digital red numbers blink half past three.

It had been a little over half an hour since she’d gotten off the phone with Alex.

And it was a waiting game until then.

The digital numbers blink a quarter past when Alex finally appears at the entryway.

The brunette looks a little bit worse for wear. 

Her short hair is tousled. 

The redness of her raw knuckles are difficult not to notice.

It is almost impossible to miss the beginnings of a bruise just above her left eye. 

The misty heaviness prominent in both.

And she looks tired. So, so tired. 

And that tiredness is more than just lack of sleep.

Because this occupation made things complex. 

Tired could be physical. A tired body. A sore one. 

But tired could be also be mental. A wearing down of the emotions. 

And when those come together, a tired body and a tired mind, it tended to leave negativity in its wake. 

That sobering thought reminds the detective that Alex is crossing into five days with an extremely disproportionate amount of sleep.

Maggie watches the elder Danvers’s hazel eyes drift from Winn, linger on her, and finally land on the emerald hue that emanates from the door on the opposite end.

And Maggie knows she wants to say something. The questions are undeniably working their way through her mind.

What was Winn doing here? Why wasn’t Maggie still under observation? And what in the hell was Kara doing in the kryptonite-encased training room in this state?

“She’s been in there for more than an hour and we couldn’t get in without a system override. Only you and J’onn have the clearance for that.”

Winn offers up the weak explanation, clearly regretting that he hadn’t been able to hack into the system.

Alex gaze shifts towards him emptily for a moment. Then she blinks the mistiness away and nods at him. Once. Then twice. And swallows hard to clear her throat.

“Uh… Thanks Winn. J’onn… J’onn needs you back at base. We found one of them… We need help tracking down the other.”

Winn nods as he jumps to his feet. 

Anxious to contribute something more to this then he already had.

As he exits, Alex is already making large strides towards the control panel.

And Maggie watches her begin to nimbly work at the controls.

“Are you feeling better?”

The brunette asks softly.

“Managing.”

She returns the softness, but keeps her answer honest and succinct. 

Alex already has too much on her plate.

“Are you feeling better?”

The detective echoes, looking knowingly at the bruise just under her hairline.

A ghost of a smile passes her girlfriend’s lips.

“Managing.”

The locks on the door hiss open.

Emerald light spills out of the cracks.

And Maggie tilts her head towards the entrance.

Your sister, she motions silently. 

“Wait for me?”

Maggie smiles forlornly. 

“Always.”

And Maggie leans her head back against the cool, metal walls when Alex disappears into the kryptonite-encased room.

Willing the silent migraine that is threatening to take root to wither away.

Willing for everything in this fucked-up world to work in their favor for once. 

“Kara…”

Alex’s voice comes out crackly and vinyl-like.

And it takes a moment before Maggie realizes that her voice is coming from the tablet not from the woman herself.

She hadn’t even realized that Winn had left it behind in his hasty retreat.

But she can see her girlfriend’s form now. The image as grainy and colorless as it was.

Crouched on the ground next to her sister, who’d barely moved at all. 

“Kara? Look at me… What are you doing in here?”

The elder Danvers tone takes on that special softness. 

The one that Maggie has heard only a few times, reserved for whenever Kara’s hurt or scared.

Or both.

But still, there’s no response. 

“Kara. You have to tell me what’s wrong or I can’t help.”

There was a moment of silence.

Then finally the blonde speaks. 

“It’s too loud.”

It’s a whisper of a rasp.

The emotional pain seeps out in her words. And it hurts to hear them.

Even from the crackly audio feed.

“Kara-”

“No. It’s too loud. It’s too loud! It’s too loud, Alex! And I- I-I can’t focus. I can’t concentr- IT’s too loud.”

Every word that the blonde sputters is unraveled and hysterical and so completely and utterly broken.

And Maggie knows from experience that if the breaking is hard, the recovery is always worse. 

After the emergency room, after the stripping, the needles, all the medical attention… come the doctors with their clip boards and looks of consternation.

And even the most well-meaning glances, were still looks of pity.

Gone is the looseness of the mind. Gone is the obliviousness and the naivety that came with it.

Now there is only the chasm that is mental torment lies ahead.

“Kara…”

And Maggie turns off the sound.

Looks away from the screen until it flickers to black.

Gives the sisters the privacy they deserve.

It’s a solid fifteen minutes more before the steel entrance, now a dull grey silver, instead of the pulsing emerald green, slide open again.

Just as silently as before.

The elder Danvers comes out first.

Murmuring something in smooth, soft words that Maggie can no longer hear now that the duo are out of range of the cameras.

Knowing Alex it’s words of comfort. She’d always been good at that. 

Maggie wants to look away when she sees Kara. Because she can tell how badly the younger girl is trying to keep the pain at bay, body stiff and slow moving, like every breath rips through her. 

Her eyes are distant, cloudy, shuttered, like she can barely focus through the pain. 

And it doesn’t make any sense to the detective.

Kara said it, Alex had confirmed it.

She’d been under the sun lamp or whatever they called it. 

Had been under it for hours. 

But she looked broken now, shattered really, robbed early of the tape and glue necessary to put her soul back together. 

Hands covering her ears, as she followed her sister wordlessly out into the open.

Something else is wrong.

It has to be. 

The blonde seemed to be folding in on herself.

Looking even worse than what she’d seen merely hours earlier.

This wasn’t just trauma. This wasn’t just lack of sleep.

Kara looked sick.

“-going to head back home, okay? We’ve just been in the DEO for too long. That’s all.”

The detective hears the back end of the Alex’s placating, one-sided conversation as the sisters approach.

“Hey. You too. We’re going home.”

Alex murmurs softly looking down at Maggie.

The detective cradles the iPad closer. 

Silently looking between the elder Danvers and her sister.

Imploring an answer to the unspoken question. 

And the tall brunette conveys a wordless reply with her own eyes. 

Filled with their own confusion and worry.

She’s going to be fine. Alex seems to convey.

But even those words seem weak and unsure. 

And it sounds like the elder Danvers’s is trying to convince herself as well as the rest of them. 

So Maggie follows them out. Trailing just behind the faltering steps of Kara.

Back into the fray of the DEO.

Into the bustle of fluttering papers, shuffling feet, ringing telephones, and murmuring voices.

Into the agency that never rested. 

They run into the J’onn only minutes later.

His arms crossed, exuding his usual grim demeanor.

J’onn takes one look at the trio. 

And affirms the command that they all go home. Demands they get some rest. 

Claiming sleep would solve at least half of the problems they were facing.

And maybe he's right. 

But something tells her whatever is happening with the blonde won’t be fixed with a few hours of shuteye. 

Alex steps aside then. Pulling J’onn along with her.

And though they keep their voices quiet, having moved out of the supposed circle of sound, Maggie still hears their hushed whispers.

“Did you get anything else out of him?” 

His grim thin-lined expression answers the question for her. 

“It has to be something that didn’t show up on the scans. It has to-”

J’oon stops her gruffly. 

And it’s only because the two are close, that Maggie knows his interruption is well-meaning, not mean-spirited. 

“Alex. We’re handling it.”

He pauses.

And his dark eyes drift over to Kara. 

Then intersect with the detective’s own line of vision. 

His eyes are dark and brooding and full of authority and understanding.

She can’t look away.

Finally, he turns back to Alex.

“Take them home. Get some rest. I’ll keep you updated.”


	5. Chapter 5

She doesn’t know how they’re able to do it, but they manage to get home in one piece.

They go to Alex’s place instead of hers. 

Mostly because the detective can’t quite remember where her keys were put in the disarray, and the eldest Danvers’s apartment serves more as a middle ground than the detective’s or Kara’s anyway.

The brunette gently lowers herself into the passenger’s side as Alex maneuvers her way to the driver’s seat.

Kara takes the back. All but collapses into it.

Stretches her gangly limbs across all three seats. 

Curling away from them and into the soft leather of the exterior backs.

And even those movements seem to be filled with subdued agony. 

Leaving Maggie to wonder if it’s really such a smart idea to leave the DEO in this state.

But J’onn had given them the go ahead. And his experience and expertise spoke volumes over hers.

When they pull out of the DEO parking garage, the silence is loud.

The silence is deafening. Excruciating.

The silence says more than any words ever could.

With both brunettes only half paying attention to the road. 

Alex’s line of sight is trained almost solely on the review mirror.

Her grip on the steering wheel so tight, the knuckles shine white. 

Her train of thought is obvious.

Alex gives her a watery smile, when it becomes apparent she’s staring to long. 

Sliding her hand into hers, and though they both know it’s not true, that they’re not all really okay, for a moment it’s easier to just pretend.

 

…. … … … …

They make it nine hours. 

Almost ten. And that’s regrettably further than Maggie thought they would have gotten. 

The living room was converted into a makeshift bed room. 

All three of them settling into the couches in the living room. 

Covered by layer upon layer of blankets.

They turn on the television. Flipping the channels until they hit the Gilmore Girls reruns.

Alex even heats up left over potstickers. And they all, including Kara, manage a couple of bites, before flipping the lights and succumbing to sleep. 

They almost make it.

Almost.

The sky is still dark outside when the detective flinches awake with alarming suddenness.

Something had crashed. Loudly. Snatching her away from her restless slumber.

The detective hastily blinks away the afterimages of an already fading dream.

And is already swinging her legs over the edge of the couch, bracing for the inevitable pounding behind her eyes to commence once more, as Alex shoots awake beside her.

It’s hard to distinguish anything in the darkness at first, with only the gleam of the Golden Girls reruns providing flickering illumination throughout the living room.

But barley two steps forward and she sees it.

The coffee table. What used to be a coffee table.

A good thirty percent is now splintering wood and shattered glass.

The remnants lying haphazardly on its side. 

That’s what must have made the crash.

But why…?

In her peripheral vision, the detective sees the elder Danvers instinctively reach for her service weapon.

There’s another crash. Louder now than the one that was muffled by her dreams.

Maggie whirls towards the noise.

“Kara?” Alex asks sleepily, still shaking cobwebs from her mind.

Kara. She’s the only one not accounted for.

But it’s not because she isn't there, Maggie realizes with a sickening dread.

She is here.

Squinting in the dark, she sees the blurred, dark shape of her, wobbly around the edges, but there. 

Blurring around the room. 

By the window. By the couch. By the dining room table. 

Moving so fast, that Maggie’s line of vision can barely keep up with her.

But something’s off. Amiss.

The younger alien is stumbling, staggering, tripping over her own two feet.

Crashing into every other thing that happens to be in her path.

It’s abnormal. It’s scary.

Both women take a small cautious step forward.

But another phased blur wisps the younger Danvers from their sight.

It takes a full moment for the detective, still fighting off the remnants of vertigo, to locate the blonde again.

And it’s only luck, that she catches the alien from the corner of her eye, disappearing across the room, stumbling up the stairs, out of sight.

Alex doesn’t even hesitate. 

Sprinting after her sister. Yelling her name.

Maggie’s close behind. Her vertigo fueled nausea makes sure to protest harshly against any vigorous activity, moving faster than she really should be with a concussion and fractured ribs.

The distant sound of retching resonates dully from the upper floor.

And the tilted feeling, the feeling that everything is wrong wrong wrong resonates dully within her. 

There’s nothing she can do about it. 

Alex, a good five to six strides ahead of her, beats the detective to the restroom.

Hesitating for only the briefest of moments, before blind panic sends her barreling though the door.

When Maggie catches up, the scene is chaotic.

The blonde is hunched over the toilet, gripping the sides with such force the fragile porcelain fractures under the pressure of her inhuman strength. 

The elder Danvers is already there, holding Kara’s hair away from her face, but her superhuman speed, sporadically blurring the blonde in and out of focus, makes even that difficult .

Moving so fast yet remaining, quite literally in one place.

As if she’s trying to phase herself out of existence. 

It’s a terrifying testament to how powerful the younger girl is.

A testament to her current lack of control.

“Alex. What can I do?”

Because there must be something that she can do. Something. Anything. 

Or nothing at all.

“Gah!”

Kara groans loudly. 

Grabbing her head as she tilts sideways, wrangling away from Alex’s loose grip, tumbling further into the room. 

Everything blurs for a moment.

And her speed skids her across the small room.

Slamming the younger woman into the adjourning wall with such visceral force the room shakes with the impact.

The resulting dent in the wall is the least of their worries. 

The young blonde is visibly shaking, sweat pouring down her face as her hands ferociously rub at her temples. Trying to rid herself of the pain only she can feel.

“Kara, wait a minute, wait…”

Alex crouches down next to her sister, trying to subdue the panicking alien. Trying to get a grip on the situation.

If the blonde registers either of their presence, there is no outward indication. 

“Fuck. Fuck. F-fuck.”

Kara’s trying to get up again, slurring a mantra of colorful choice words, as she struggles off the cool tile. 

It immediately becomes clear, as the blonde manages to her knees, that her body will not cooperate.

Maggie watches from the entrance, as her entire form goes rigid and the slurred mantra abruptly breaks off.

Then she’s screaming.

A scream filled with so much pain, agony, and despair. 

As terrifying as it is deafening.

Kara collapses back onto floor.

Curling into herself. Bracing her skull in an unbreakable iron grip. As if that would make a difference

Both of the older women recoil. 

And from the way Alex freezes, Maggie can tell that she had never been faced with this situation before.

That she doesn’t know what to do.

Kara’s form trembles into a blur and her soul-tearing scream is cut off, as her speed corals her into another wall.

The mirror falls from its screws. Shattering into dozens of small, jagged pieces as it hits the floor.

Tremors continue to rack viciously through the blonde's tense form, and the younger woman’s tightly sealed eyes barely hide the unshed tears as she lets out another desperate sound.

A terrible gasping noise. She’s crying. She’s breaking.

“No… no.. no…”

Kara’s fingers curl tighter into her loose blonde curls,

The detective can hear her crying, can hear quick, shallow breaths that sound all too distressing. 

“Kara, Kara? I need you to try and breathe for me, Kara. Can you hear me? Kara, it is really important that you try your best to breathe for me…remember those breathing exercises Eliza taught you?” 

Alex had adopted her most professional tone of voice, calm and collected, although Maggie could see the fearful concern in amber tint of her eyes.

Ignoring the fragments of porcelain and plaster and glass that surround her like a twisted art exhibit.

Kara doesn't respond.

If anything, she seems to curl up into a smaller ball, sobbing brokenly. Letting out pitiful, almost inhuman moans of pain. 

Her throat raw from the screams.

Her eyes screwed shut in pain.

Maggie gingerly reaches out, resting a hand lightly on Alex’s shoulder in what she hoped was a comforting manner.

“Alex, what can I do?”

She begs.

“I don’t… I don’t know. I don’t know!”

Alex’s voice is high pitched and keening.

And for the first time she sounds scared. Not just worried. Not just concerned. Scared.

The detective’s stomach churns violently at the unwelcome familiarity of it. 

Kara blurs away again, shooting across the room, blasting away what remains of the plaster wall. 

The blonde’s facing away from them now, her shoulder’s shaking with desperate sobs.

Her long fingers, having relinquished their grip against her temples, instead rake down the back of her neck, tearing at the skin, making it bleed. 

“Kara… You need to calm down. Come on… You’re hurting yourself.”

The detective tries her own hand at placating the girl. 

It’s too no apparent avail.

Another ferocious blur wrestles its way through the blonde. Ripping her out of focus once more.

And suddenly, the detective finds herself looking at very bright, very green eyes. 

Neon emerald encompassing her pupils, her rises, the whites of her eyes. 

It takes a moment to realize she’s looking directly at Kara’s heat vision. 

In a fluid motion, Alex yanks Maggie away from Kara’s line of sight. 

The unexpected movement is blindingly painful for an instant; then her ribs readjust into the dull, vindictive ache.

The blonde bites out another pained gasp scrambling away from them.

Burning plaster infiltrates her senses. 

A wave of guilt washes over her. She shouldn’t have waited so long. 

She should have searched out the blonde as soon as she felt something was off. But she’d been so adamant about getting that damn drink. Had been so quit to dismiss-

“MAGGIE!”

Maggie’s mind snaps back towards the present.

There are no more words left; her brain is just scattered thoughts of chaos and anxiety and tension and everything is exploding. 

“Maggie, we have t-to- we have to knock her out.”

The brunette’s eyes are wild, her tone regretful. 

But she’s right.

“I have a syringe filled with kryptonite in the gun safe. Can you- can you-?”

Alex murmurs distractedly as her sister’s tremors worsen. 

But the detective already knows what she’s asking and jumps at the chance for something to do. 

Maggie spills into the hallway. 

Feeling her way along in the dark until she finds the light switch.  
The bright fluoresce hurls spots into her vision.

But she stumbles along. Adrenaline fueling her hasty movements.

The gun safe is in the brunette's room. 

And she doesn’t have enough time to wonder why Alex would even have Kryptonite outside of the government base.

Her hands are shaking as she dials the combination. 

It’s the first thing she sees.

Bright, pulsing emerald green.

Encased in a green tipped syringe.

The lights flicker above her.

Another tremor shakes the walls. 

Accompanied with another wail of pain.

Maggie snatches the syringe from the deposit box. 

Runs back to bathroom. Back to the chaos.

Alex is hovering next to her sister, desperately trying to talk her down.

It’s horrifying.

Seeing then both, rumpled and frightened in the middle of her tiny bathroom.

Kara pulling at her thick blonde curls, wheezing out words that made no sense.

Alex frantically murmuring comfort words that make no difference.

She hobbles forward, crashing to the floor as she hastily removes safety wrapping from the pulsing, emerald syringe.

And now that Maggie’s closer, she sees that Kara’s self-inflicted scratches had indeed left a presence.

Angry red marks, spotted with bubbling crimson blood.

It’s ironic. That the only other thing strong enough to hurt Kara was Kara herself.

And it was cruel, that Alex and Maggie who had been forced to stay back as the younger Danvers’s mind tried to tear, now possessed the only other thing that would bring the younger women harm.

With burgeoning guilt, the detective plunges the green tipped needle into the nape of Kara’s neck, forcefully expelling its contents before she could blur away again.

At first nothing seems to happen.

Kara mutters something incomprehensibly, her voice muddled by tears, sweat, and sheer exhaustion.

Her trembling fingers, formerly raking jagged marks against anything they could touch, drop to the ground, until she’s balancing her weight on her palms.

“Easy,” Alex murmurs, like she’s comforting a young child who’d gotten herself banged up by something bigger and meaner than she was. 

Still crouching with her, less than a hand’s length away, even when the danger is palpable.

“Shhh. We’re gonna get this taken care of, okay? That’s it, you’re fine. You’re fine.”

The elder Danvers murmurs those words frantically, softly, as the kryptonite begins to take effect. 

Kara wavers on her knees for a moment. 

Sways back and forth as the emerald rock courses its way through her bloodstream. 

A distinct fogginess begins to dominate her movements, the tremors becoming far and few in between.

Then her glassy cobalt eyes roll in their sockets, back up into her head and the blonde’s arms relinquish their support.

Alex catches her then. Grabbing her younger sister. Enveloping her in her arms. 

And Maggie stumbles backwards.

Ends up sliding down the wall only several feet from the door, as the remaining adrenaline wracks the last few desperate breaths from her lungs.

The syringe of kryptonite rolls from her hands, drops to the floor.

And she sits there for a moment, trying to comprehend what in the hell just happened.

The silence is broken by the sharp intakes of breath as hot tears begin to weave trails down Alex’s cheeks.

Tears in the corners of Alex’s eyes. Real, actual tears. 

Kara is completely unconscious now. Her figure limp as Alex cradles her in her arms.

“You’re okay. You’re okay…”

The shakiness in her tone betrays any semblance of confidence.

“Alex… She’s not okay.”

There’s a beat of silence.

And their amber eyes meet.

“I know.”

Maggie can’t remember the last time she heard her girlfriend sound so broken.

… … …

It takes a full five minutes and their combined effort to move Kara out of the bathroom.

Away from the shattered porcelain, the crumbling plaster, and broken glass.

Alex does most of the heavy lifting.

Having wiped away her tears, reverting back to her DEO agent persona.

It must feel safer to hide behind that mask of confidence and authority.

Maggie ambles closely behind.

It’s a shame that she sees right through it.

One more step…

One more step…

One after another…

They don’t even try to bring her back downstairs. 

The adrenaline and strength for that kind of feat is long gone.

Instead, the unconscious woman goes on Alex’s bed.

A mess of heavy uncooperative limbs. 

The elder Danvers checks her watch as she measures younger sister’s pulse, silently counting the beats as the detective lays a blanket over the blonde.

If it wasn’t for the recent events, she would have mistaken it for slumber instead of unconsciousness. 

Alex lets out a breathy chuckle. 

Maggie glances up sharply at the seemingly misplaced laughter. 

“I don’t… Her pulse is normal. Her temp is normal. I don’t… Nothing’s wrong. I don’t know what’s wrong…”

Her laughter had been heavy with disbelief.

The eldest Danvers turns sharply away from the both of them then. 

Obviously trying to compose herself. 

Miserably failing. Her girlfriend’s fists clench and unclench, shaking much like Kara’s had earlier.

“Alex…” 

When Alex turns back her eyes are shiny with unshed tears.

“I… I need to call J’onn. He’ll know. He’ll know what to do.”

Maggie desperately wants to believe that.

The brunette disappears from the room. 

And Maggie listens to her fading footsteps as she leans against the dresser. 

Kara.

She looked like she was sleeping. Just sleeping.

Why couldn’t she just have been sleeping?

Within seconds her girlfriend is back.

Hands trembling as the brunette shakily dial out J’onn’s number.

With anger or with sadness or with the remnants of fear, Maggie doesn’t know for sure. 

She does know that J’onn better be prepared for the force to be reckoned with.

She puts phone on the dresser, turns it on speaker as she sits across from Maggie. 

It rings once. Then twice.

Then he answers.

Before either of them can get word in he’s already speaking.

“It’s Timborzati. That’s what he gave her.”

Timborzati.

Timborzati.

Timborzati.

A parasite.


	6. Chapter 6

Timborzati. 

She’d heard about that before.

Rumors. Whispers. 

About a parasitic alien narcotic that was making its rounds around the club scene.

Another fad that had recently sputtered to prominence in a laundry list of date rape drugs that was extrapolated upon by cowards who couldn’t manage to get their own lovers.

Another drug irritatingly difficult to pick out and shut down by the police force.

The detective never knew what it did exactly. Just that it had been very under the table. 

The topic had never fallen under her jurisdiction. 

That had been the responsibility of the narcotics unit. 

And there had always been more pressing matters at hand.

Like the war on fucking cocaine.

“Timborzati?”

Alex had echoed. 

“Timborzati.”

He’d confirmed. 

“No.. no. Timborzati doesn’t do that. It’s a hallucinogenic-“

J’onn interrupts firmly.

“Alex we can talk about this in person. Right now you need to gauge her symptoms and get her back the DEO. It might be worse than we initially thought.”

Stricken can’t even begin to describe the look that plasters itself across Alex’s face.

And Maggie can’t necessarily blame her, not with Kara unconscious on the bed behind them.

Not with the upstairs bathroom in shambles. 

“Might be- J’onn! Kara… The symptoms are already there! She just had a seizure in my bathroom. I had to use kryptonite on her. Kryptonite! Fucking kryptonite. And I promised… I promised I would never do that to her again. Not after the first time!”

Alex is rambling again. Going off on a tangent.

Her tone isn’t excusing, but it’s getting damn near close. 

And Maggie knows it’s time to step in.

“J’onn, what the hell is Timborzati? Why didn’t it show up on the scans?”

The darker man ignores both questions, evidently picking up on the distress and the anxiety on their end. 

Apparently relieved that someone has some calmness about them.

“Maggie? Maggie, I’ll explain in more detail at the facility. First, explain. What happened on your end?”

His authoritative tone is soothing.

Confident and in control even when the situation is pretty much going to shit.

And when it’s clear that he isn’t going to get a clear response from her emotional girlfriend, the man redirects the question towards her.

So Maggie sits stiffly as she relays the entire night’s events on the phone. 

Giving him the short, succinct summary of what had happened

She would learn later what the drug was in detail.

Timborzati was apparently a ‘feel good’ drug cultivated on the planet of Kydezio.

Made from the live spores of one of the plants grown there.

It supposedly gave its users a sense of euphoria, in reality it instilled a mess of symptoms, including lethargy, poor judgement, poorer concentration, short term memory loss, and hallucinations among the many.

On the Kydezio planet and with its inhabitants, Timborzati worked like a basic hallucinogenic narcotic. 

Did its thing and faded out in a few hours.

On Earth things were a bit different. 

The effect was stronger and the symptoms varied widely among different species. 

Which would have accounted for the various accounts of overdoses the narcotics unit had reported.

Which would explain the severe reaction Kara had to it.

It would then become apparent that the yellow sun only revitalized the spores, made them stronger, helped them replicate. 

Accounting for the sharper, severe effects new users experienced upon initial use.

Meaning they essentially gave Kara a death sentence when they put her under the fucking sun lamp.

She is with Alex in the DEO, when Agent Vasquez relays this information.

And Maggie can see the painful realization in the elder Danvers sister’s eyes.

“You… You said it was okay to bring her home. You said-you said it would be fine!”

The emotion Alex portrays is conveyed in a hushed whisper. 

She’s still trying to be quiet, trying not to wake Kara.

Even though the amount of kryptonite pretty much guarantees she’s down for the count.

When she had finished her summary of events, J’onn had decided to come to them.

Decided to take whisk them all back to DEO under official Green Martian authority.

Because it had been clear that no one had been in a good state to drive.

They had put Kara in her training room. 

Dialed up the kryptonion inhibitor as much as they could without bringing about anymore severe damage, in hopes of delaying anymore episodes like the earlier one.

Let the remaining two view everything from the observation deck.

“The Earth technology was too primitive to detect the spores. They didn’t show up on the X-ray’s or MRI or bloodwork. The symptoms seemed to be delayed as well, the only noticeable one being lethargy, there was no way to discernibly conclude anything was wrong.”

The regret and sorrow is evident in the DEO agent’s tone. 

And Alex must hear it as well because she doesn’t bite back.

“The man we have in custody. He has no ties to CADMUS or any other discrimination-based organizations. He claims he didn’t intend for anything detrimental to happen. That he merely didn’t know the correct dosage.”

It’s a pathetic excuse that tries to justify what happened.

Because it doesn’t hide from the fact of what the true intentions for his use of the drug was.

It doesn’t explain why the other one is still in the wind. Why the other one is still running.

Because you only run if you’re guilty. 

The detective has some choice words she wants to share with that man when she gets the opportunity.

From the way Alex vibrates with fury beside her, Maggie can tell she does too.

“J’onn what can we do? About Kara?”

“There’s nothing much we can do. The kryptonite seems to tamper off the more severe symptoms. We can either administer more and fight fire with fire or try and ride it out and see if Kara’s immune system can fight off the effects on its own.”

The choice the man gives is an impossible one.  
… … … … … … 

Bright yellowish white floods her vision.

It takes a moment to compensate, adjusting her sight around the light and towards the darkened objects at the edges of her vision.

Both women are silent as Alex moves the penlight to her other eye.

The yellow orb of white lingers for a few moments, before the brunette finally moves the small light away.

Leaving the detective to rapidly blink the confines and colors of the DEO laboratory back into coherency. 

“See? Perfect picture of health.”

She says this dryly, hoarsely, the sardonic humor having seeped away with the hectic mess of the last few hours.

Alex doesn’t see the humor in it either, instead only blinks heavily as she moves around to check her bandages.

And the detective knows the taller brunette’s trying to distract herself. That her preferred coping method is keeping busy.

Because it was always in those quiet moments, when she was alone with her thoughts, that things would become to much to handle.

“You really… You really shouldn’t have been running.”

Silence settles in the room at that.

Alex was right. She really shouldn’t have been. But they both know damn well why she was.

J’onn and the others had given them privacy. In an effort to prevent them from becoming more of a spectacle then they already were.

It would be naive to ignore the whispers and glances when they returned for the second time in less than twenty four hours.

Because from what they had already seen… she knew how bad it must have looked.

How bad it looked when J’onn had to physically lift the Girl of Steel, the blonde cradled unconscious in his arms, and had to carry her out of the room, out of the apartment, into the DEO.

How Alex had shuffled behind him like a lost kid, after all the fight had gone out of her. 

How Winn’s hands had shook, how even when he said nothing the worry, the fear, the trepidation swirled desperately in his eyes.

How Mon-el had lingered further back, trying to disappear in the shadows of grey walls. uncharacteristically quiet, uncharacteristically absent. 

She remembers how angry she’d been at him in that moment. 

Unwarranted anger as she wonders where the hell he’s been in the last few days.

“Maggie?”

Alex’s voice pulls her from her thoughts.

Somehow she’d missed that the brunette had finished fixing her bandages. 

Maggie readjusts her shirt, stares hard at the plaster dust that stains her shirt for a moment, before she looks up.

The elder Danvers was cross the room now. Facing her, but looking away. 

At the ground, at the table, she didn’t know what exactly from this vantage point.

Her arms wrapped tightly around herself, as if she’s trying to physically hold herself together.

“Kara… It was her that hit you wasn’t it? Not Cadmus. Not those… those men.”

The detective makes an unconscious movement. Brings a hand to her chest.

Feels the tenderness of her ribs under the chalky ace bandages. 

Remembers the sickening crack her bones made when she hit the wall.

And subsequently loses the words that try hard to convey an answer.

Maggie doesn’t want to lie, she could never lie to Alex.

But it seems fruitless to add more pain to an already fragile situation.

Her hesitance betrays her unwillingness to confirm an answer. 

Indirectly validating the truth she knew Alex didn’t really want to know.

The taller brunette moves to rub the crease between her brow. 

A sign Maggie has come to associate with frustration. 

And it is indeed frustration that laces her girlfriend’s tearful tone.

“God Maggie… Why didn’t you say anything?”

The detective smiles sadly. 

“It wouldn’t have made a difference Danvers. We both know it wasn’t her fault.”

Alex is already shaking her head before the detective can finish.

“No…no this is my fault. I should have… I should have never dragged you into this. It’s always… Everyone always gets hurt and-“

Maggie slides of the table she was sitting on. Shuffles closer towards her girlfriend. 

“Alex, none of this is your fault. I would have done the same thing, regardless if I had known you or Kara. I’m a cop, remember? It’s my job.”

She murmurs, imploring the taller brunette to meet her eyes.

“Besides Kara’s a puppy. You’d have to be evil or insane not to help her.”

That gets a teary chuckle from Alex.

And considering the shitty situation with an even shittier choice, Maggie considers it a win.

“Alex, you really have to stop trying to break up with me every time things completely out of our control try to screw things up. I’m sticking around, for you and for Little Danvers.” 

Winn opens the door then.

Awkwardly looks between the two of them. 

“Uh… Kara’s awake. She’s asking for you Alex.”

The lack of relief and trepidation in the IT expert’s tone doesn’t make Alex feel any more reassured.

…. … … …. ….

There is a reason Winn was so flustered.

Kara had woken up. Disoriented.

And her disorientation had cultivated fear which in turn had induced terror.

Alex had mentioned Kara’s deep-rooted fear of abandonment in passing once. 

Her fear of being alone. Of being left behind.

The detective figures that the only reason Kara hadn’t torn her way out was because the entire room was encased in kryptonite.

Maggie doesn’t go in the room with Alex. Not at first.

Everyone knows that the only her sister can calm Kara down.

The bond the sisters share is a strong one.

Instead, she stays on the outside with Winn and J’onn and Agent Vasquez. 

Feels useless with the qualified DEO agents as they try to work out a different solution.

One that doesn’t involve injecting a gallon of kryptonite into a kryptonion.

So she doesn’t go in. Not at first, not until Alex calls her in almost a full hour later.

“Hey Little Danvers. Feeling better?”

The detective steps cautiously into the room, into its green emitting hue.

The blonde looks wilted in that hospital bed, laying on her side, the machines looming over her as they press against the corner. 

A variety of information spouts across the screens. Brain waves. Heart rate. Blood pressure. 

They’re running through all the tests. Again. 

Trying to find something they might have missed. 

The blonde’s focus is on Alex when Maggie enters, but at the mention of her name Kara sluggishly shifts her sight towards the detective.

The younger Danvers looks at her emptily for a moment. 

Eyes as empty as that night a few days ago.

Then Kara blinks rapidly, coherency sparking back into her cobalt irises.

Though the dazed glint in those dark hooded eyes don’t go away.

“M-Maggie… Yeah I’m feeling better.”

Her name comes out in a raspy slur of a whisper if she can even call it that. 

Tinged with exhaustion and defeat. 

The green emerald rock has an obvious effect on the younger woman.

Wringing what residual energy is left away from the younger Danvers.

And if this is Kara now, what is worse the Timborzati or the kryptonite? 

Maggie takes the empty chair next to Alex, who’d settled down without saying so much as a word.

“I… I just wanted to… wanted to say…”

Kara’s sentence trails off.

And she does the thing.

That thing both of the Danvers sisters do when they’re nervous or confused.

Tilts her head.

Scrunches her brow.

“Maggie… You’re hurt.”

Cold twists in her veins.

Yes. She was hurt.

Kara had known she was hurt. 

Kara had apologized for being the one that hurt her.

Now she seems to be acknowledging it for the first time.

Maggie glances quizzically at Alex.

And suddenly the rigidness that appears in Alex’s shoulders makes sense.

“Yeah, just a little banged up. Nothing to worry about.”

Maggie saves face. 

She sees Alex biting the inside of her cheek. 

Stifling back the urge to say something. 

There’s a moment when the three of them don’t say anything.

But Kara’s cobalt eyes don’t waver, burrowing holes into the detective.

Trying to poke holes into her excuse.

Then she blinks once. Then twice. 

And Maggie watches her focus falter as the alien garners an faraway look.

Two more blinks and the look is gone.

But it is clear that Kara isn’t exactly following any train of articulate thought. 

“Alex… When can I get out of here?

The alien looks wistfully past the older women towards the closed door behind them, the green emerald hue reflects painfully in her eyes.

“Kara, you can’t leave right now, remember?”

Alex says as if she’s explaining it to a child.

The waver is detectable in her voice. 

“You had a… an episode. The kryptonite’s the only thing really keeping that under control.”

The younger blonde looks away then, her expression contorting into something akin to exasperation and annoyance.

“Alex, why are are you talking to me like that? I’m not a kid!”

The blonde’s tone has an accusatory flare, but it’s also the most lively response that the detective had heard from the younger woman since this whole thing started. 

“Kara, she’s just worried about you.”

Kara scoffs, moving an electrode covered arm to rub her temple.

“Worried? I told you guys I’m fine. It’s just a headache. Everyone’s walking in here like it’s a funeral or something.”

Maggie wants to smile at that. She really does.

But the decimated upstairs bathroom in Alex’s apartment would have some other choice words.

So she does nothing.

Lets the room settle into silence again. 

“I hate hospitals.”

The blonde slurs eventually and it’s strange because this isn’t a hospital. 

But that doesn’t matter to the blonde who begins lazily pulling at the electrodes that pepper her skin.

It takes a full moment to realize what she’s doing.

Alex jumps from her chair then. 

“You need to stop!”

Her sister ignores her, moving to remove the electrodes from her other arm as the machines begin to scream around her. 

Maggie is up now too. Rolling into action.

“Stop it! You can’t leave, Kara. Stop!”

The sharpness and anger Alex carries make both of them flinch.

Stunning both the detective and the blonde into motionlessness.

“You’re sick Kara! Sick! So you have to stop puling the damn electrodes out!  
And you need to let us help you!”

The younger Danvers deflates under Alex’s words.

Relaxes as Alex makes quick work of replacing the electrodes she had torn away.  
It’s a stubborn silence.

An awkward one.

Kara’s eyes become unfocused as she flits between the two older women.

Confusion permeating her cobalt eyes once more.

Then the blonde tilts her head.

Scrunches her brow.

“Maggie… you’re hurt.”

Kara says this with the exact same youthful concern as before. 

Acknowledges it as if it were the first time.


	7. Chapter 7

Alex is intent on staying in the kryptonite-encased training room with Kara until the blonde falls asleep.

Or fades back into unconsciousness. 

It’s difficult to tell with the blonde’s slurred words and circular train of thought which would come first.

Regardless, Maggie is ride or die. 

Willing to stay with the Danvers sisters until the end. 

No matter how messy.

But it’s hard to make a conversation out of the mess that the Timborzati and kryptonite has made of her memory.

Going along with her repetitive questions until they become far and few between.

And Maggie can see how much it’s tearing Alex apart.

Can see it in her eyes.

In her posture.

As Kara picks absentmindedly at the electrodes.

Draws imaginary figurines in the air.

Asks questions that she really should know the answers too.

There are only so many ways the detective can explain away the bruises and bandages.

There are only so many times of looking into those imploring cobalt eyes and pretending everything is fine.

Made even worse when the blonde, despite being stuck in a semblance of forgetfulness, seems to seems to realize that she’s the reason for Alex’s worry.

Seems to realize that anything she adds to the conversation just adds to the tension in the room. 

Agitation and confusion marks up the pale, ashen pallor of Kara’s demeanor.

The muted colors of the room coupled with the reflective, dull green emerald only sucks more liveliness out of the concentration.

She’s not getting better with the kryptonite. 

That much Maggie knows.

The rock is only stagnating things. Not even completely.

And of course the emerald rock brings symptoms of its own.

There’s the faintest hint of a sheen of sweat beginning to form on the blonde’s creased forehead.

There's the slight slur in her words, slightly blending her sentences every time she speaks.

There’s the obvious weakness in muscle strength.

But it’s easier to blame that all on the kryptonite, instead of the Timborzati. 

Easier to believe the alternative, until Kara’s conversation wavers.

And proves that the parasitic drug is still very much there.

Everyone sits up when the younger Danvers trails off abruptly.

Maggie and Alex straighten in their chairs.

She sees Winn, in the corner, who’d come in to record data off one of machines, fingers cease the typing on his notes.

They all look at her, look at her stare at something else to her left.

Maggie follows her gaze. Directly to the empty space behind them.

Nothing is there but the walls.

The empty walls. 

The younger Danvers shifts uncomfortably and squints harder.

Maggie watches her tense.

Sees the goosebumps begin to pepper her skin. 

The other brunette must notice as well.

And only the elder Danvers has no reluctance in asking. 

“Kara, what are you looking at?”

Alex implores softly.

Kara doesn’t acknowledge her initially.

Doesn’t waver from her clear cut line of sight.

Winn has paused completely now at the machines.

Glancing quizzically up from his charts, eyes darting between Maggie and Alex and Kara . 

The quirky tech expert opens his mouth, but doesn’t say anything when the detective motions for him to let things play out. 

“I…”

A forgotten explanation trails off as Kara stiffens visibly.

But it’s hard to tell what Kara is even focusing on her barely lucid state.

Her knees are curled as close as she can get them against her chest and her arms are cradling her lower ribs in either and effort to alleviate the pain or to compose herself. 

“Kara?”

Alex prods. 

Maggie gut twists as she realizes.

This…

She was acting this way a few days earlier.

Staring sharply to her left.

Burrowing her sight into something that seemingly wasn’t there.

When Alex had sent her to join the detective for company.

“Does no one hear that?”

Kara’s voice is decidedly off kilter. 

A significant change from before.

As if she’s talking over a louder noise. 

But there is no louder noise. 

“What do you hear?”

Alex questions.

Leaning forward. 

Inner doctor shining through.

Maggie catches a flurry of movement from the corner of her vision and she turns fully to see Winn waving silently from the machines.

Motioning at something on the screens.

The EEG.

The one that monitors neural activity in the brain.

Something has changed.

Away from the frustratingly normal activity that’s dominated the screen since she arrived in the kryptonite encased room.

Now it’s a smattering of high peaks and low dips.

Maggie glances back at Kara.

There seems to be no obvious visible difference. 

But it’s enough to cause concern.

“It’s loud… Why is it so loud?”

The younger alien almost tips off the bed in her effort to locate the sound.

But Alex is already there, gently forcing her sister back down to the bed.

And as quickly as it starts it’s gone.

The erratic warning beeps of the EEG stop sharply.

Levels off almost immediately.

Kara whispers something then, in response to her sister’s question. 

Something in a language Alex understands, but Maggie can’t decipher. 

Kryptonese probably.

And what she says doesn’t seem to quell either of their concern any more.

“Hey, hey don’t talk like that.”

Kara shakes her head.

Rubs furiously at her temples.

But no amount of prodding can get Kara to say anything further.

Alex doesn’t waver from Kara’s side.

“I’m going to call Mom okay?”

Eliza Danvers.

The mother of the Danvers sisters.

Maggie had met Alex’s mother a few times now.

Knew how she could be a steadying force when these types of things happened.

“No, no, don’t call Eliza.”

Kara protests weakly.

“I have too Kara, she knows about these kinds of things. She’ll know what to do. She’ll be worried about you too.”

Winn begins gathering his notes up, to bring back to J’on and the other DEO scientists.

No doubt to pounce on the information the EEG has provided him with.

“Kar. I’m just going to call okay. It’ll be quick I promise.”

The elder Danvers murmurs softly, as she checks the monitors.

Checking for any more abnormalities. 

“I’ll be right back okay?,” Alex reiterates when Kara doesn’t answer the first time. “Okay?”

“Okay.”

Kara murmurs softly.

“I’m not much use out there.” Maggie comments quietly, as Winn and Alex leave the room. “Want me to stay until Alex comes back?”

The detective has no real intention of leaving the blonde alone in what amounts to glorified medicinal jail cell. 

But she feels like she ought to give the blonde a choice anyways, considering that much of her control in this situation was rapidly being stripped away.

By both the DEO and the Timborzati. 

There’s a delayed reaction in Kara’s response.

She’s stiff on her side, still reeling from the unexpected noises.

Hands pressed forcefully against her ears, eyes scrunched tightly shut.

The detective leans forward, anticipates asking the question again. Wonders if she was even heard the first time she’d asked it.

Then the blonde turns fractionally and squints at her through glassy, narrowed eyes and nods almost imperceptibly.

“Yeah,” she admits hoarsely, voice nearly a whisper, and seemingly directed into the mattress she’s trying to disappear into. “Yeah, that would b-be, would be nice.”

The words are stilted. Slurred. Not much different than the rest of their conversations that day.

They sit in silence for a minute.

As Kara moves her hands from her ears to curl into the twisted frays of the DEO blanket.

Curling further into herself as scrunches her eyes closer together. 

“It’s getting worse isn’t it?”

The detective asks with as much gentleness she can muster, somehow both dreading the answer and fearing it would never come.

The blonde refuses to meet her steady gaze.

Instead, her trembling fingers twist tighter into the white cotton blanket.

Shaking like they had when Kara had visited her a few days earlier.

When the roles were reversed.

When she had been the patient and Kara the visitor.

Shaking like they had that night.

And just because the younger Danvers won’t look, refuses to look, can’t look up doesn’t mean Maggie can’t tell.

She can see the shuttered, far away heaviness in her eyes.

She can see the careful rigidness. How hard she's trying not to move.

Can hear her careful measured breaths.

How hard she’s trying to prove that everything is fine externally, when Maggie knows the exact opposite is true.

Which is why she isn’t surprised when the blonde murmurs shakily, unsteadily, in a whisper a breath

“A little.”

A little means a lot.

And Maggie knows right then how bad has to be.

For her to admit it.

Because trying to offer comfort to the younger Danvers sister was hard.

And stubbornness seems to run in the family.

“Kara, why aren’t you saying anything? We can’t help you if you don’t say anything.”

Her voice must carry too loud because Kara winces, sinks backwards, further, albeit minutely, away from the detective, visibly trying to sink into the cot.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers, lowering her voice. “But, you understand we’re just trying to help.”

The blonde’s shuttered eyes drift towards the doors. 

Towards the entrance of the kryptonite cell she can’t leave.

And somewhere in the vestiges of the pain the detective senses guilt.

“I… I don’t want to worry her.”

She doesn’t want to… what?

Maggie rapidly tries to put the pieces together from that answer.

Her is obviously Alex.

She thinks about how Kara hadn’t initially gone Alex when the pain had started.

How she hadn't put up much of a fight, when her sister had coaxed her from the kryptonite room in the first place. Only two days ago.

How Alex hadn’t known that Kara was even at the bar at the night. 

Because Kara was supposed to have been with Mon-el that night. Supposed to have been. Wasn’t. 

The blonde had been secretive for a while now the detective realizes.

All for her sister’s benefit.

She doesn’t want to worry her.

She doesn’t want to burden her. 

Her kindness and her naivety would always be her weakness.

“Kara. Look at me.”

Maggie slides from her chair.

Rests her on knees as she kneels in front of the hospital bed.

Kneels down in front of her.

Until she’s looking directly into Kara’s hollow, hooded bloodshot irises.

“Alex is your sister. She’s always going to worry about you. Sick or not. It means she cares.”

The younger alien grinds her teeth together as her bottom lip trembles.

And salty, silent tears fight to spring forth as the blonde averts her eyes away from the detective, back towards the DEO cot. 

“They were so nice…”

Kara whispers forlornly, seemingly turning the conversation on it’s side again. 

But Maggie needs her to understand, needs her to understand how much everyone is worried for her in this moment.

“Kara-”

She tries to interrupt gently.

But the blonde plows forward morosely.

“They were nice, Maggie… I was sad and they bought me a drink. Only nice people do that.”

The innocence in her voice is painful to hear.

She’s talking about the men. The ones who drugged her. 

One of whom is locked up in the bowels of the DEO facility somewhere.

Practically begging for Alex or literally any other of Kara’s protective group of friends to exchange some choice words or fists.

The other still in the wind.

Though hopefully not for long.

“I-I didn’t mean too… Nothing was supposed to happen. And now everything keeps on- keeps on… And now Alex is p-panicking…

She stutters over her words.

Hesitating, somehow managing to smother the inevitable hitch in her voice.

“Alex is worried.”

Maggie interrupts firmly.

Kara’s eyes shift to the side again, glazed with a glassy layer of tears, and Maggie watches them lose focus.

“Worried.”

The younger woman echoes.

“Because she cares.”

Kara smiles at that.

A small, watery version of her normal one.

The normal one she hasn’t seen in some time. 

“Do you think… Do you think they can turn the kryptonite level up?”

Kara sounds impossibly small. Impossibly tiny. Impossibly weak.

Asking in a breathy wheeze for the only thing that can give her permanent damage.

Too fight a parasitic alien drug that seems intent on fulfilling the exact same harm.

And Maggie begins to wonder what will happen when they can’t raise the kryptonite level any more.

Wonders when they should tell Kara that the only conceivable plan they have for fighting this thing is either injecting her full of the rock that could very well kill her or leaving her alone to battle the parasite herself. 

Neither option is particularly pleasant.

“I… I can ask for you.”

She’s hesitant to say yes.

Because even though she’s in the DEO facility she has no real control of anything that happens.

She’ll talk to Alex, the detective decides, when her girlfriend gets off the phone with her mother.

Hopefully with a better handle on this situation. 

“Maggie… I’m scared.”

The detective swallows the lump in her throat.

“It’s okay to be scared.”

Kara relaxes, if only minutely back into the sheets 

Seemingly accepting the answer she’s been forced to live with.

“Maggie?”

“Yeah, Little Danvers?”

There’s a pregnant pause.

Too loud, even over the beeping of the hospital machines.

“Where’s Alex?”

She doesn’t answer at first.

She doesn't know how .

Denial is a horrible thing to lose.

When the strong-held belief that everything is going to be okay, when that weakens, when that fails. 

She doesn’t know what to do.

… …. … 

Only a few more chapters left. 

Just saw the episode where the Danvers had that argument about family- hurt so much.


	8. Chapter 8

“She wanted what?”

Alex asks, barely constrained hysteria hidden under the obvious distress of her loud whisper.

“She wanted to… wanted to raise the kryptonite level.”

Maggie explains.

Kara is asleep now.

Asleep. Unconscious. Unresponsive. 

The words are interchangeable at this point.

Asleep is the nicest way to put it, even if it isn’t even close to accurate.

But nothing’s changed that hasn’t been there before.

So, they’re out here now, in the main observation room, with the rest of their close circle of friends, looking through the plexus-plated windows of the room the younger Danvers lies in.

“God. Oh God.”

Alex turns away from them.

From J’onn, who, arms crossed, stands resolute, something akin to solemnness in his eyes.

From Winn who shifts nervously in the background.

From the DEO scientists who, jaws clenched, do their best to continue working.

From her.

The taller brunette’s voice cracks as she leans against the table. 

Resting her elbows on its surface, raising her hands to wipe the salt from her eyes. 

“We… I mean…. If it’s what she wants… we can…”

Winn stammers to spare Alex from becoming a spectacle.

To fill what is about to become a strained silence. 

“No. No! I’m not- I’m not giving my little sister anymore kryptonite.”

The tremors running through Alex’s hands are visible as her girlfriend moves to rub her temples. 

And she doesn’t turn back to them when she says it.

Even when her shoulders shake and her voice trembles. 

“Agent Danvers, I understand how hard this decision is, but until we find an acceptable alternative, kryptonite seems to be the most effective measure in suppressing the parasite and the associated pain.”

And Maggie wonders how J’onn can always be so calm.

So, steady. So, resolute. 

The authoritative voice of reason in an emotion fueled mess.

“J’onn, kryptonite is going to kill- It’s going to kill her. I… I am not going to kill my sister.”

Each word is drawn out with impossible strain.

Heavy with watery despair.

Maggie steps closer to her.

Rests her hand on Alex’s shoulder and can feel the crushing tension.

It’s an impossible choice. 

A choice between two evils.

“I said already, my mom is coming. And Clark… Clark is bringing her.”

The taller brunette shakily exhales.

“Alex…”

Maggie murmurs. 

“No! The kryptonite is just hiding things. You know it. I know it. I’m not giving her any more. There has too… there must be another way. What do we know?”

She’s asking.

Directing her energy towards Winn. 

Winn, who has exuded nothing but anxious concern, in the hour since they’d gone back to the observation deck.

Maggie had figured then, that whatever he’d seen after four hours with the EEG records hadn’t been good.

“What do we know, Winn!”

Alex asks again.

And Maggie can hear what she’s doing. 

Schooling her features. Hiding under her DEO persona. 

Because it’s easier that way, Alex had told her once. 

To remain calm behind what she’s supposed to be in her professional title.

But no one can hide forever.

“I… I was looking at her EEG. The reason nothing was showing up in any of our tests was because it’s… neural.”

Winn sounds like he doesn’t want to say it.

Wincing as he pushes forward and tries to explain. 

His working theory is that the Timborzati spores are replicating, are maturing at a rapid pace in the synapses of her temporal lobes. 

That the slurred speech, the nausea, the sensory hallucinations, the loss of short term recollection, the power glitches, the reason she keeps looking left is because it’s attacking her brain.

That it’s most likely going to get worse.

“All of that. If she was human, it’s working like a tumor. The more it grows, the more it’s going to affect her.”

“What does that mean?”

Maggie asks for Alex.

Alex, who’s hugging herself, to keep from falling apart at the seams.

“It means that… the virus isn’t dying. Her immune system isn’t beating it.”

Confirming that this isn’t going away.

Confirming that this is going to get worse.

Alex blinks rapidly, glassy eyes gazing astutely at some point on the floor   
Then she nods, almost imperceptibly at first, then with more vigor.  
“Okay… okay.”

Her girlfriend murmurs, clearly trying to wrap her head around what Winn just said. 

The rest of them are frozen because it’s news none of them want to hear.

And Alex is eerily calm in the way she’s handling it. 

There is a moment of silence. 

Then…

“Where is he?”

Her girlfriend questions. Deep and low. 

“Agent Danvers.”

J’onn says in warning, just as deep, just as low. 

And Maggie realizes what she’s doing.

Turning to something she can do.

Because being angry is easier than admitting pain. 

“No! He hurt her! He hurt her! And if we don’t get the other goddamn one – I’m not letting the other bastard go free.”

Winn is shrinking away. Gathering some files. Sinking into the background.

“Agent Danvers. No one is letting the other one go free.”

And her voice is raising.

“So where is he? I’ll make him talk!”

The detective takes a subtle step forward, ready to be a mediating force. 

Because Alex is surely going to regret yelling at her superior offer. 

Even under these circumstances.

“We have other agents on this case, you don’t need to be in the field. You need to be with your sister-”

J’onn isn’t backing down either. 

And the words he’s saying, they make sense, it just isn’t something Alex wants to hear right now.

“He’s in the docks.”

Mon-el.

All heads whip towards the Daxamite.

The Daxamite who hasn’t so much as crossed the peripheral since this all occurred.

“The docks.”

He repeats. Quieter this time. 

J’onn lips press together in a thin line.

But he says nothing further.

Because they all know that now that Alex has a location, there’s nothing going to stop her from going.

“Alex, you should leave you should leave your gun here.”

Maggie murmurs quietly. 

Alex stares emptily for a moment. Not comprehending.

The tension stretches across the room.

Then she looks down and sees what Maggie sees. What they all see.

Her hand shaking, trembling, as it rests on the butt of her service weapon.

The elder Danvers sister blinks. Once. Twice.

And then Alex is unholstering her gun. Sliding out the cartridge. Emptying it.

The casings drop to the floor. 

One by one.

Clinking against the concrete.

And when it’s empty, she slams it on the table.

The computer rattles at the force.

But Alex is gone before it stops shaking. 

Taking off before anything more can be said. 

“I’ll handle it.”

The detective says to the remaining occupants and she doesn’t stop to see what they have to say.

Instead, she’s turning, rushing after Alex, who’s hurrying away.

Maggie’s silent first, jogging to match her pace.

Trailing her as they turn down one hallway then another, becoming more and more isolated.

Then enough is enough.

Because if they’re going to do this, then both of their heads need to be on straight. 

They need to do this right. 

“Hey. Hey. Look at me Danvers.”

Maggie says, reaching for her arm.

And Alex whirls to face her, laser guided fury smothering all sense of reason.

“What? You’re going to tell me to go back too?”

Malice dripping off her words as she gestures in the general direction she’d stalked from.

But the detective knows this is emotion talking.

Merely misdirected anger that Alex is projecting. 

“No, I’m not going to make you go back. I told you, I’m ride or die. But, you need to calm down.”

Incredulousness encompasses Alex’s features. 

Contorting into visible, then audible hurt.

“Maggie. That. Is. My. Sister. How can you tell me to calm down?”

But Maggie doesn’t falter. Refuses to look away. 

Stands willingly in the path of her anger. 

Because this is Alex. 

Alex who’s finally at her breaking point. 

“Alex. You’re thinking with your heart, not your head. And when that happens you make mistakes.”

Maggie tries to explain.

The detective had told Kara those same words months ago. 

When the situation had been reversed. 

When Alex had been missing. 

When Alex had been hurt, and Kara was the overprotective sister looking for answers. 

And Alex’s anger dulls a little as she deflates under the detective words.

“They want me to…”

The tall brunette takes a small step back.

Eyes widening, voice lowering, as the rush of anger wisps away.

“They want me to kill my sister.”

She whispers.

Impossibly small. Impossibly broken.

Her weight seems to drop, sliding her down against the wall and onto the floor.

Maggie kneels next to her.

“Hey… Hey… No, they don’t. They’re trying to help her.”

Alex’s shoulders are heaving as she shakes her head.

Brown doe eyes filled to the brim with unshed tears. 

“How can they help her, when we don’t know anything? All we have is the name of a parasite that shouldn’t be on this planet and a list of symptoms saying how fucked up everything is. Unless we find something… anything that’s concrete … We’re running out of time and she’s going to- going to… die.”

“Don’t talk like that. Nothing’s ever final. Nothing’s ever over, until it’s over.”

Maggie soothes, but Alex isn’t done.

Words falling from her mouth like they’re on fire.

Speaking faster and faster as she tries to get her thoughts out of head

Sounding more and more wounded as she goes along.

“Isn’t it though?”

Alex murmurs morosely.

“If we give her more kryptonite, she could die. If we don’t, she could die. If she blows out her powers, or if my mom doesn’t get here in time, or if that goddamn bastard doesn’t fess up then she’s or if the fucking parasite spreads a-any further... You saw her Maggie! I was gone… I was gone for twenty minutes! And I told her b-before I left. I told where I was going to be. I told her-”

Alex’s voice cracks.

That is all it takes for the tears to fall. 

For desperate sobs to tear their way to the surface.

For her to lean into Maggie’s leather jacket.

And the detective gathers her girlfriend in her arms.

Ignores the pinching soreness in her healing ribs.

Ignores the straggling DEO agents in the nearly empty hallway.

Because this is Alex.

“If she… If she dies… God. If-”

Alex is saying through hiccupping breaths. 

Maggie shushes her, running her hands through short brown hair, holding her close. 

“I’m a horrible sister.”

Alex tearfully murmurs minutes later, pushing forward before the detective can negate it. 

“I-I am. I didn’t see it. Something was bothering her and I never saw it. She had broken up with Mon-el weeks ago and I had to hear it from him. I didn’t know she was at the bar. But when we went back to question the owner, he said… He said she’d been going there for weeks. I’m- I’m a h-horrible sister.”

This is news to Maggie, she hadn’t known about the breakup either.

Though it explains why Mon-el hasn’t been in the peripheral recently.

However, there must be more to it than that. 

Because Kara had never seemed to be the type to drown her sorrows in alcohol. 

Especially over something that supposedly happened weeks ago. 

But the detective doesn’t let her surprise show, instead she rushes to calm her sister.

“You know that isn’t true. You couldn’t possibly be a horrible sister to Kara, the bond you share, it’s too strong for that. You’re doing everything you can.”

And it’s true, she’s never seen a bond stronger than the one shared by the Danvers sisters. 

Bound by trauma, fortified by that fierce protectiveness, reinforced in their years of constant togetherness.

Unbreakable.

They would die for each other. Without a second thought. 

So, Maggie can’t sit here and let Alex’s self-deprecation convince her otherwise. 

“I know it’s hard… that it’s tough to see how this is going to solve itself, but she’s strong and so are you. You need to hold on to that.”

She’s not going to tell Alex that everything will be fine.

Because the truth is, is that she doesn’t know. 

No one does.

And giving false assurances tended to do more harm than good.

Alex’s fingers curl tighter into her jacket.

Her tears are silent now. 

And Maggie holds on tighter.

Refuses to let go.

Refuses to let Alex harbor this alone.

And they sit there, until they’re ready.

Too keep moving forward.  
… .. … … … 

“You’re the cop.”

The man is saying when Alex and Maggie finally make it to his holding cell.

Vasquez lets them in, then very deliberately finds something else to do. 

And when they go through the door, Maggie recognizes him immediately.

This is the one who was dumb enough to return to the crime scene.

The detective had broken his nose in barely a week ago. 

Would have thought he’d learned something from that. 

He looked a lot more roughed up now.

Bruised and cuffed to the metal table in front of him

Though it’s not stopping him from spouting off at the mouth.

“You can’t keep me in here like this. I know my rights. Thirty-six hours under duress must be breaking all kind of rules. I told the black guy… I want my lawyer!”

“Sorry. I’m off duty.”

Maggie murmurs dryly.

And because fury is easier to feel than sorrow, she can sense Alex next to her, radiating with anger once more. 

Facing one of the men responsible for what happened. 

Ready to make damn sure they get the other one.

Whatever way it takes.

“We were in a hurry before, so we skipped the formalities. I’m Detective Maggie Sawyer and this is DEO Agent Alex Danvers. If you don’t recognize her, I’m sure you’d recognize the girl you poisoned. That’s her sister.”

The man blanches, if only for a moment, before rapidly schooling his features.

“I told them I didn’t know anything. And even if I did, you ain’t getting nothing from me!”

Alex steps forward.

Maggie smiles grimly.

“Yeah, we’ll see about that.”

The door closes behind them.  
……

It takes an hour for them to get information.

For them to return to home base. 

J’onn, Mon-el, and a few DEO scientists are the only ones still there.

They all look up when they enter.

And J’onn has something indecipherable in his eyes as he takes them in. 

Sees the red on Alex’s knuckles.

Sees the red on hers.

And just because she stopped Alex from taking her gun, doesn’t mean she stopped her from doing anything else. 

Alex deserved time to have at him.

And he had hurt Kara.

He had it coming.

“We have an address.”

Maggie tells him.

And at last he nods.

Says nothing further.

Maybe because he knows how much they needed this.

“Anything?”

Alex asks.

J’onn clenches his jaw.

So, nothing. 

Alex’s knuckles are white amongst the specks of crimson as they clench at her sides.

“Who’s with Kara?”

The elder Danvers questions without missing a beat.

Because even if she’s not conscious, Kara should never have to wake up alone.

“Winn’s with her. He needed to- ”

J’onn’s interrupted.

By a rush of wind.

A roar of sound.

A flash of red and blue.

Papers flutter up in its wake.

Empty chairs roll forward with the momentum.

Monitor screens flicker.

People grab at their hats.

Then he’s there. 

Superman.

Lowering Eliza Danvers to the ground, in all her windswept glory.

Then standing tall.

Muscles rippling.

Jaw clenched.

Eyes dark.

Zeroing in on them.

“Where is she?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for glossing over the interrogation scene, but I'm a horrible writer when it comes to those.
> 
> Anyways. Things are coming to a head. 
> 
> A few chapters left. What do you think?


	9. Chapter 9

Maggie had only met Superman a handful of times.

And that was all the detective felt was warranted. 

She was never the girl to have the posters of him on the wall.

Even in her younger days, when Superman, or the idea of him anyway, was rapidly becoming the new thing.

Because even then, she’d learned to never trust someone based on what they portrayed themselves to be.

Countless first hand experiences had nailed that into her. 

A sobering fact ground into her at childhood, reinforced in Gotham’s police department, and served as a stark reminder every day in National City.

No one is that happy, that altruistic, that sane, without having baggage. 

Because there is almost always more. 

But when she really meets him, for the first time, not as Superman, but as Clark Kent, he is still polite, still altruistic, still painfully kind.

Like Kara.

And like Kara, he wields that otherworldly power in his demeanor. 

Like Kara, he is strong, youthful, and selfless. 

But unlike Kara, he doesn’t have that look of otherness, of eyes that see things much too far, and of thoughts that wander off the edge of the world. 

But even so, something puts her off about all of that that, although his actions are entirely too sincere.

And maybe it had been the way Alex had been stiff as a board during all of their interactions.

Even when Kara had been ecstatic. Even when Winn had been practically drooling. 

And she learned then that Alex and Clark weren’t, aren’t, have never really been on the best of terms. 

At least not visibly. 

And nothing has changed in the present.

Alex freezes next to her, won't let herself be guided anymore. 

Maggie holds her at arm's length and sees the fight rising up inside. 

How Alex can’t quite lift her eyes yet, but her chin is up and her back is straightening.

And the detective thinks fleetingly, that maybe this situation can be defused before it goes inevitably sideways

But the fight is in Clark as well.

There’s undeniable power behind his stance.

An undeniable stiffness in his words.

The detective is tense. J’onn is rigid. Eliza, still gathering her wits.

But any chance of the situation being defused is crushed when Clark immediately follows up with,

 

“Why didn’t you call me sooner?”

 

And it’s not really meant as an accusation, Maggie can hear the desperation behind his words, but no one is focused on the underlying tones.

Not in this tension.

And it sounds damn near close enough to one with all the force and authority Clark puts behind it.

Alex only sees red.

Steps forward with fire in her eyes.

 

“Why didn’t I call you sooner? Clark, you NEVER come when Kara is hurt!”

 

Her voice shakes. 

It's not tearful now, but is still damp and stuffy with the pain from earlier.

And the words are daggers.

The detective can tell he didn’t expect it.

Can tell it throws him off.

Because he ramps up his volume.

 

“Because if you’re doing your job, she never stays hurt! You have sunlamps and doctors and scientists!”

 

The entire DEO is still. 

A pin could drop as the agents watch the family-not-so-family fight. 

 

“That’s not an excuse, Clark! You can’t just forfeit the family role and come back when you see fit!”

 

Clark's hands ball into fists. 

And the detective instinctively twitches forward. 

But he won’t do it, he can’t do it, he’s mad but he’ll never be that mad-

“Don’t talk about family when you told her that she was-”

 

“ALEX. CLARK.”

 

Eliza.

Raising her voice in a way only a mother could.

Alex recoils as if she’s been slapped. 

Clark deflates instantly.

And his shoulders curl inwards.

And Maggie sees both of them for what they are.

Scared. 

J'onn steps forward. Finally.

His tired eyes, not darting between Clark and Alex , but somehow fixed firmly on both.

He wants to say something, needs to say something, but it’s Eliza who beats him to it. 

Finds the action that do more than words ever could. 

Crosses the short space envelops Alex in her arms. 

Her girlfriend is stiff at first. Almost refusing the sincerity behind it.

 

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

 

Alex mutters over and over into the crook of Eliza’s neck. 

And her mother doesn’t say anything, but she doesn’t let go either.

So when Alex finally relaxes into her mother’s grip, Maggie steps away, steps to the side.

Steps towards J’onn who knows it isn’t his place to interrupt this moment. . 

Towards Clark, who won’t look away from the floor. 

And the DEO is painfully quiet.

It’s never been this quiet before.

… … … … 

"This is her clinical work?”

 

Eliza asks, wizened eyes skimming over the lab work, pages upon pages, that’d been handed to her.

The silver-haired blonde’s mouth is downturned, hand clenched white, but she speaks without a stutter. 

Though her incredulousness, her disbelief, doesn’t exactly inspire confidence. 

And Alex is in front of her, doe eyes wide and watery, vigorously nodding because she can’t trust herself to speak.

But it’s J’onn who confirms it.

 

“Our team has done everything we could think of short of placing her back under the sunlamps, because doing so only seemed to exasperate the symptoms.” 

 

And Eliza nods. 

Nods, but Maggie sees the way her hands clench tighter.

For a moment there’s nothing more, but strained silence.

They’ve moved to a more private area, to stave off all the spotlight of being spectacles.

But the tension is still very much there, whether anyone will verbally admit to it or not. 

“The Fortress of Solitude didn't have much on Timborzati. It never touched Krypton.”

Clark states gruffly.

His arms crossed, his face perpetually downcast.

 

“Wouldn’t have expected it too anyway, considering how new the damn thing is.”

 

And that’s regrettably true.

Synthetic things, even parasites, purposely manipulated for heightened use, tended to look vastly different from the original form.

Taking into account the differing atmospheres from galaxies upon galaxies away and the potential evolution. 

It’s sobering information to take in.

Information no one really wants to hear. 

 

“You said you had an address?”

 

Eliza asks, not looking up, from the file.

Moving closer to Winn, who’s sitting at his laptop, working on something she can’t quite see from the other side of the room.

 

“He gave us an address of the corner of fifth and third avenue.”

 

Alex says.

The corner of fifth and third is gang territory.

Maggie knows as much from the narcotics unit.

 

“It sounds like a trap.”

 

Mon-el says incredulously.

And it did. 

Even then, when the man, she won’t say his name, won’t ever say his name, confessed it under the duress of Alex’s fury.

But even if it is a trap, so be it, because it’s the only thing they’ve got going for this right now.

And Alex voices as much. 

 

“Nothing’s ever that easy.”

 

Mon-el protests in retaliation. And to quell what ever will happen next, the detective finds herself speaking before she really thinks it through

 

“I’ll go.” 

 

Maggie suggests.

Anxious for something, anything to do. 

Tired of being the only one incapable of providing any distinct help.

And all of sudden their faces are on her, so fast that the detective feels like she has to justify it.

 

“I know his face. I can-”

 

Alex interrupts before she can finish.

 

“Maggie, no. You have a concussion and your ribs… no.”

 

And Eliza’s shaking her head too.

The detective wants to protest. To say something more, but she’s cut off. 

 

“I can go.”

 

Clark asserts.

Standing tall again, leaning away from the wall. 

 

“No!”

 

Alex fires back, just as vehemently.

And Clark snaps to her.

Subtle surprise coloring his features. 

 

“No. N-No. The parasite… It’s affecting her this bad because she’s- she’s Kryptonian. And… And I’m not letting anyone else get hurt. I’ll go.”

 

“No!”

 

Maggie, Clark, and Eliza say simultaneously. 

Vehemently.

And J’onn interrupts them before the argument can continue. 

 

“Detective Sawyer , you’re injured. You are going nowhere.”

 

He states firmly giving no room for argument.

 

“Agent Danvers, Superman, you are family. And you both will stay with your family. I will send a team. And I will go and supervise the extraction of the other accomplice.”

 

Dark eyes flitting towards the others, conveying the same exact orders.

And though his words are strong and filled with authority, there’s a distinct ring of solemnness to them. 

Maggie feels that that solemnness doesn’t just stem from this situation.

It is then, the detective remembers that he once had a family. 

Once had a whole world.

And had lost it.

Due to war or famine or disease, she couldn’t remember the specifics.

But cause didn’t really matter when there was nothing left behind but ashes. 

Nothing but empty graves that would never be given proper funerals.

And maybe that’s why Kara and J’onn were able to get along so well. 

Because they had been firsthand witnesses the cruelty of beings and no one else could truly understand what it felt like to have everything get ripped away from them.

No one else.

J’onn’s dark eyes sweep over them one last time. 

 

“Dr. Danvers. I’ll see to it that you get any materials and supplies you might need.”

 

And when he leaves… he doesn’t look back.

 

… … … …

Scrape. Scrape. Scrape.

Maggie tries not to stare at him.

Tries to give him some peace of mind. 

Tries.

Clark is on the observation deck with the her, Mon-el, and the few straggling scientists who haven’t left in the recent shift change.

Sitting, shoulder’s hunched, at the table pressed up against the double-plated Plexiglas window that stares into the makeshift hospital enclosure.

Alex is in there. With Eliza, J’onn, and the last she checked Winn. 

But Maggie won’t go back in. 

Won't even look through the window. 

Because this is honestly…

She just….

No. She won’t go back in.

And Clark... he can’t go in. 

He hasn’t had the same exposure as Kara to green kryptonite. 

Has built up next to zero tolerance.

And the level that the room it’s at right now… it will no doubt incapacitate him.

So he sits stiffly on the other side of the wall. 

On the other side of the led encased wall that separates him from of his only remaining blood relative. 

Using his pointer finger to carve ringlets of steel from the metal table. 

Staring morosely at some point pass the window.

Eyes seeing, but mind obviously somewhere else. 

And it’s hard to look at him between faces.

Because even when she’d met him out of uniform, he’d always been happy, polite, and the slightest bit awkward. 

Sullen had never been the word to describe anything.

Tortured had never been the word to describe anything.

But that’s all the detective has seen, all she has experienced, as of late. 

The heavy silence really only makes things worse.

Because even with the fluttering papers, the foot steps, the clicking of computer keys, the silence is undeniably present.

Still manages to be louder than everything else.

Maggie leans back on her own rolling chair. 

Unconsciously moves a hand to fiddle with the butterfly stitches on her forehead.

Watches as the last of the scientists… and then Mon-el, who’d been antsy under the critical gaze of J’onn and wilted in the presence of Clark, make their excuses and leave.

Until it’s just them…

Them and the dull ache of her ribs and the quiet.

Quiet.

Quiet.

Quiet. 

Until...

 

“I… I was a sophomore in college, Maggie.”

 

Her chair squeaks loudly in silence as she tilts her head, then by virtue her body, toward him.

Because for the first time that night, his voice audibly wavers. 

For the first time his words aren’t deliberately purposeful.

Just heavy and sullen and… despondent. 

Like he’s talking at her, instead of to her. 

As if it had gotten too hard to hold up the hard persona

And she’s heard Alex like this.

And Kara. 

And it kills the detective seeing how similar the three of them are, even when they share no similar physical features.

Maggie curls her free hand, the one not fiddling with the bandages, nervously at her side.

Subtly, not so subtly, clenching it, twists it slightly into the fibers of her cotton shirt. 

Because the detective knows she’s been integrated into the Danvers Family more and more in the months her and Alex had been together. 

But still, though warranted, horribly warranted, it still feels strange that it’s Clark.

Because they had barely had more than twenty conversations together, even less alone. 

So there isn’t much she can say besides,

 

“I know.”

 

But it doesn’t seem to matter to Clark.

Clark who’s already lost in the story he’s trying to say.

 

“A-and Ma and Pa were still struggling with the farm. And I had the student loans and the side job at the Daily Planet and had started fucking around with this,”

 

He mutters. 

Gestures down to the blue stitch of his uniform.

“Because when you have all of this power and hear all of this pain. You have to… not do nothing.”

And Maggie nods slightly, even if he’s not looking.

Because she gets it. She really does. 

If there is the ability to protect and then there is the ability to serve.

It’s one of the reasons, albeit among several, that she ended up joining the police department.

And it’s the same perspective that had arguably instigated Kara’s own path into superhero stardom. 

Great power. Great responsibility. 

She’d heard it over and over again. 

Especially in the recent weeks leading up to… this.

When the blonde had garnered a nasty habit of going radio silent for days at a time.

Showing up in Laos and Nigeria and Columbia and places far far away from National City, but never letting anyone know. 

Because everyone, everywhere needs help.

And who was Kara to hear and not help.

Even if it came as a detriment to everything else. 

 

“And she was thirteen. Thirteen... I barely knew Kryptonian. I couldn’t- I couldn’t have ever taken care of-.”

 

The steady scraping of steel ceases as Clark brings his hand to pinch the bridge of his nose. 

And his eyes are dark. 

His eyes are troubled. 

His eyes are far, far away. 

 

“I couldn’t have ever taken care of her the way she deserved.”

 

The detective swallows hard.

Finally works up the courage to look down through the window of the observation deck at Kara laying on the cot.

At Alex’s tight grip on her sister’s hand.

At Eliza hovering on the other side, listening to Winn as he does his best to explain the horrifically rapid accumulation of events. 

 

“I know.”

…. …. …

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Authors note: 
> 
> I didn't want Clark to necessarily be the bad guy in this fic. In the show I get Alex's perspective, but Clark really couldn't have done much. But of course Clark has his faults too, so I wrote them as a bitter half sibling relationship instead. 
> 
> Kara will make more of an appearance in the next chapter.


End file.
